#he keeps the baby in the extra pair of hands he grew

[halfghostwriter]

When a true baby ghost is born— a ghost not born of dying, but rather through the desire of another ghost— they are little more than a core with wispy ectoplasm emanating from them for about a month. During said month, they take on influence from their surroundings in order to figure out the form they’ll take, hence why so many young ghosts look like their parents.

Because they aren’t fully formed until a month after their birth, the parent or parents will take on a far more aggressive, primal form in order to protect their child. The parent’s form will become incredibly monstrous, and their size will increase, with triple their normal size being most common among parents. Their mental state also becomes incredibly instinctual, higher intelligence temporarily being replaced by aggression towards anyone the ghost doesn’t consider family. They stay in this state until the baby is fully formed.

Of course, Danny “don’t worry about it” Phantom forgets to add this bit of trivia to his explanation to his fellow heroes as to why he was taking paternity leave. In his defense, he didn’t expect them to visit during that month.

And he definitely didn’t expect his brooding brain to latch onto most everyone who visited as “part of his brood.”

[dollfacefantasy]

hi! i love your writing so much! i was wondering if you could write something with leon and a clingy reader? she just likes being held by him, and one day a make out session gets out of hand while he’s holding her so he just fucks her while standing up, not letting her get down. i don’t know if this makes sense but the thought won’t leave my head. hope you’re having a good day/night! <3

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you're such a needy little thing. leon can't get enough of you, and when he finds out you like being held, he has to take advantage of that.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral sex (m receiving), standing sex, daddy kink

word count: 3.9k

a/n: thank you so much for the request! i FELT this one cause i also have a thing about being held hehe. i hope it's what you were looking for :) reblogs and comments are really appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

It only took Leon a couple weeks of dating to figure out that his girlfriend was exceptionally needy. He could tell you tried to suppress it to the best of your ability, control your yearning for physical contact, but it was still there. Honestly, it was obvious from the way you looked at him alone. Glossy, pleading eyes just calling out to him for some love.

At first, he was wary of this trait. He wasn’t good with affection normally. Didn’t like talking about his feelings. That stuff was just too much. He’s a busy guy already. He didn’t need extra worries in the form of a sweet thing like you rubbing your cheek against his neck, snaking your arms beneath his shirt, softly pleading “Leon, I wanna cuddle.”

But his problem was that he always gave into that stuff. Words like those hitting his ears, your pouty lips begging for his kisses, and grabby hands roaming around his body always got you what you wanted. He’d plant a smooch on your temple or forehead, grunt a quiet “c’mere then baby,” and pull you on top of him.

Time passed, and you grew on him like ivy climbing a stone wall. Your clingy nature took root somewhere inside him and drove him wild. It was addictive, feeling so needed. For the first time in his life, he felt like someone’s absolute first choice. It was nice living out his days with the subconscious idea that he was your favorite person. He could get a bit cocky about it sometimes but more than anything it made him all sappy. He couldn’t help it. He tried keeping up the cool, slick persona around you for a little while because impressing you was so important to him. But the way you looked at him made him feel like Superman. Your precious face tilted upwards to gaze at him like he was the only man you’d ever laid eyes on. It just made him wanna scoop you up and take off, soar far up into the clouds where it would just be the two of you.

So he ended up feeding into this kind of behavior one thousand percent, enabling you with no reservations. If you were sitting together, you were on his lap. Standing near each other? His arm was around you, keeping you tucked to his chest. The two of you would be lying in bed and simple cuddling just didn’t cut it anymore. No, instead, he’d be rubbing your back, nuzzling and kissing your neck, massaging your scalp. And the pet names were constant. Your actual name was only reserved for serious or special occasions. In ordinary conversations, it was always “my baby” with the intermittent “precious girl” or “princess” mixed in. 

Because, from his perspective, why wouldn’t he? You both deserved this. You craved the physical affection you’d never gotten enough of while he yearned for a sweet little thing to dote on and love between the brutal DSO missions that plagued most of his time. He didn’t give a fuck if someone wanted to say it was codependent or that he was whipped. You were his baby, and if sweet tender affection was what revved your engine, what kind of man would he be to deprive you of it?

Maybe he was whipped. He wouldn’t shy away from that label. He loved you undoubtedly. His heart ached to see you smiling and laughing. Each individual cell in his body cried out to be pressed against you. But in the same breath, he’d be a liar if he said that sex played no part in his urges to coddle you.

He’d never seen a girl get as cock drunk as you. He’d warm you up with his cooing and caresses, and then all he had to do was slide a few inches in you, and you were gone. Nothing had ever gotten him so hard. It’s like your brain shut off as soon as your sweet little pussy was filled up. Really, you went the whole nine yards; whining, babbling, drooling. Your gorgeous lashes would flutter as your eyes went hazy, and you always wanted to hold his hand. Well, more specifically, you wanted him to offer his hand to you. He’d simply murmur “Aw, is it too much, princess? Here, hold daddy’s hand. That’s my girl,” and you were already cumming.

Cause that was the other part of this whole thing. Shortly after he caught on to your intense need for physical affection, he discovered your penchant for the infamous d word. The first time you’d said it, he had you pinned down to the mattress, face shoved against your pillow, hips slightly elevated while he stuffed you full of cock. You just cried it out in the same way you’d yell for God or whine “fuck.” And he rolled with it. One little word wasn’t gonna get in the way of what he’d found with you.

Beyond calling him daddy, Leon tried to take note of all the things that got you going. Sure, you were fond of physical expressions of love, and you probably wouldn’t turn down an offer from him ever. But that didn’t mean you didn’t have favorites when it came to this stuff. Leon took pride in remembering what you liked. Over the months of your relationship, he made a point to remember the specific motion you liked him to do when he rubbed your back. He burned into his mind that you liked to kiss in a way that would definitely make those over-the-top smooching noises found in network dramas. What could he say? He just wanted to do everything right for you.

Possibly his favorite thing that he discovered about you though was your love for being held. Love probably wasn’t even a strong enough word. Your affinity? Proclivity? Plain white hot need? Who fucking knows. All he knew was that you had a major thing for being wrapped up in his arms with your head on his shoulder.

The first hint he’d got at this part of you came by pure accident. He’d just arrived home from a mission, a long and taxing one at that. He’d missed you like crazy, felt as needy as you did on a daily basis, and you were practically vibrating with a longing for his touch. So when you came bounding down the hallway to meet him at the front door, he’d grabbed you by the waist, picked you up and spun you around like in an old cartoon when the prince and princess finally get their happily ever after.

Coming out of the short twirl, he’d brought you to his chest and held your body a little ways above the ground. He cradled your head to your shoulder and kept his grip tight to support you. And it wasn’t like you melted or had little hearts gleaming in your eyes, but something in your demeanor shifted.

“There’s my baby,” he muttered while smacking kisses on the side of your head.

You replied with how much you missed him, more than anything in the whole world. He laughed his deep, rumbling laugh and brought you over to the couch. You were all over him even more than normal which was really saying something. You couldn’t stop pecking his face or pushing up against him. Next thing he knew, you were tugging at his belt and taking his dick down your throat.

“Fuck, precious. don’t gotta choke yourself. It’s not goin’ anywhere,'' he hummed while tilting his head back against the couch. You weren’t normally so forward. You were always needy, but typically, you waited for him to initiate. It was much more your style to drop hints that you were in the mood and wait for him to pick up on your signals, but this time you just went for it.

He stroked the back of your head while you bobbed your head, taking him deeper each time. Groans fell from his lips, and his hips jolted in small twitches. Your saliva seeped out over your soft lips and dribbled down to his balls. You had never lacked enthusiasm before, but now you were taking him like his cock was the best treat you’d ever had.

He could barely stand the sight of you in that moment. Cute eyes drooping while your cheeks hollowed. Once he heard the muted sound of you gagging, he was done for. Shot his load deep in your throat in what would have been an embarrassingly short amount of time if you were anyone else. But you swallowed it all without any complaints and then crawled into his lap to cuddle some more. As you curled up to his chest, he knew something he did struck a chord with you to get you so eager.

So naturally, he tried picking you up again a couple days later. He had to know if that was a fluke or if it really was a thing. This time it was much more intentional, but he still played it off as a teasing gesture. He scooped you up from behind while you were fidgeting with something in the kitchen, expecting a whiny chorus of “Leon!” and “Stop, put me down!” But you didn’t say either. You let out a soft squeak and a quiet “What are you doing?”

“Just giving you a hug, baby,” he teased and situated you in his embrace so your front was pressed to his.

Almost immediately, as if your skull was magnetized, your head fell to his shoulder. Your limbs tightened around him a little and you took a deep breath like you wanted to commit his scent to memory. You didn’t even complain about him pulling you away from whatever task had been occupying your attention.

“This isn’t a hug,” you’d said softly.

“Says who? Seems like a hug to me, got my arms around you,” he responded with a small kiss to your temple.

His hand rose to your head and cradled it against his shoulder as your legs locked around his waist. He stood there with you for a moment just taking in the embrace. It was as if he could feel you melt against his body.

“A hug is when we’re both standing,” you say quietly while slotting your face in the warm crook of his neck.

“Yeah? You look that up in the dictionary or something?” he mutters in return.

When he had a firm hold on you, he walked you through the living room, taking the long way up to the bedroom to give his little experiment some time to play out. You rested quietly in his grasp as he navigated past furniture. He ran his free hand up and down your back as he moved, his other one planted firmly on your thigh to support you.

After the two of you reached the bedroom, he set you down on the bed and climbed in after you. His fingers coasted across your cheek as he looked down into your eyes, studying you in a way. He was still curious about what was going through your head. Again, him holding you like that had led to some of the best sex the two of you’d had, but there was something deeper there too. This wasn’t just a cheat code to get you to drop your panties. There was an emotional part of this too. He could tell.

“So you like when I pick you up, hm?” he’d asked.

You looked up at him from your spot against his chest, glowing a bit as you came down from the high. “I guess,” you answered with a tiny shrug.

He’d chuckled at your attempt to be casual and just dropped the subject matter. Your reasons were probably sensitive to you. Located in a deep, private cavern of your heart that was too guarded for you to let even him in yet. And that was ok with him. For now, he’d just chalk it up to some desire on an instinctual level. It was just something that made you tick, and it became something he did for you from time to time when you needed that extra level of care.

This evening, the two of you had been watching some movie. To be honest, Leon didn’t even remember what it was called at this point because he didn’t really wanna watch it in the first place. He was much more interested in you. You had just started it up as he arrived home from running some errands though, so he didn’t want to be rude and ask you to shut it off just because he was horny. Instead, he flopped down next to you on the couch. 

A small laugh bubbles from your lips as he pulls you to him and kisses down the side of your face, murmuring for you to explain what’s going on in the thing you were watching. You ramble on about the story, telling him that it’s the end of the world and these guys are trapped in this house, and that one is friends with that one but hates the other one, and blah blah blah. He loved you to death, but he just couldn’t care less about that right now. He hums along with a stream alternating between  “mhm” and “oh yeah.”

Your laughter increases as his kisses become more distracting. He nips at the skin of your throat and litters your soft skin with love bites. His tongue laves at your neck as his nose coasts over your flesh. After a while, your own interest in the movie begins to dwindle. You turn your head and plant some smooches on his face, enticing him to tilt his head upwards. The two of you meet in the middle, connecting your lips.

Mouths move in sync, tongues brush each other, and soon enough, your seat’s been abandoned in favor of your true favorite spot. You’re parked on his lap, the lush flesh of your ass flush against his semi-hard bulge. His hand slithers up your back underneath your shirt to rub up and down your spine while pulling you closer. Your breathing gets heavier, and you’re practically panting when you two finally pull away for a break. Your lips are wet with spit and a little puffy from making out. He drags his thumb over your bottom one as he smirks at your glazed eyes.

“Think you’d be ok with finishing this later?” he asks.

To his pleasure, you’re quick to accept the offer with a nod. “Seen it before anyways,” you admit and lean back in for more kisses.

He chuckles into your mouth and boosts you up without even turning the tv off. He’s stumbling to the bedroom, and you’re latched onto him like a little spidermonkey or something. He knew well by now that being carried took your brain to that sweet spot of utter submission, but today you were on something else entirely. You were getting whiny between kisses. He was having to support you extra because your hands were trying to slide in between the two of you and get at his pants. He assumed it was cause he got you riled up before picking you up, but he didn’t lament about it too much. He wasn’t thinking with his head right now.

All your squirming around nearly made him trip and topple the both of you to the ground. He grunts and shifts you around, trying to get you to settle down at least till you reach the bedroom. You wouldn’t let up though, continuing on with your impatient hip rocking and greedy fingers. He’s sure he’s about to fall over and one of you is moments away from serious injury, so he totters a few steps over and secures you against the wall.

“Jesus, you’d think I’d just got back from a war or something,” he breathes.

You laugh, but keep up your neediness. “Just want you so bad. Missed my daddy all day,” you murmur.

“Yeah? I know it’s hard being away from me. Your little head’s just not cut out for all that thinking is it?” he coos condescendingly, “This is how you're meant to be, just attached to daddy, letting him take care of everything while you tag along.”

“Mhm,” you nod and kiss him again. He can feel you smiling against his lips.

“Yeah, so how bout you do me a favor then and stop wriggling around so much. You wanna get dropped on your head so thinking isn’t even an option anymore?” he teases.

“No. I just…” you whimper defensively. A smile spreads across your face as you hide your face at the base of his neck. “I just want you… really bad.”

That was a tone Leon knew well by now. That was the tone of the guessing game. It was the voice you used when you wanted something but were too shy to just ask for it. So Leon had to decipher your signals and figure out what that thing was. Luckily, this time around it was pretty simple.

“Really bad? Like pinned down in the middle of the hallway while I’m stuffing you full of cum bad?” he asks.

“Sorta…” you say.

With an amused shake of his head, he thinks a little more. The stuffed full of cum thing was a given. So what was off? He was thinking through this as if searching for a missing puzzle piece. He runs through different scenarios before it clicks. He laughs a little. It was kind of obvious once he had it.

“Oh, of course not. There’s no way you’d choose to be out of my arms. What was I thinking?” he says, exaggerating his cadence, “So you want it standing?”

You nod, and with the right answer, that little smile feels so much sweeter. He leans harder into you, keeping you by pressing you between him and the wall. Giving you a few messy kisses, he finally undoes his pants and pushes them down to his mid-thigh. He was fully hard now. You could feel it as he rolled his hips against your center.

“Lucky you’re wearing a skirt, nice and easy for me,” he hums.

He bunches up the fabric around your waist before dragging his fingers over your panties, feeling how they were damp. He smirks against your lips while applying more pressure, seeking out your swollen clit.

“Already so wet, baby,” he chides, “Is this how you get while I’m not with you? Can’t think of anything but daddy cause your pretty pussy’s just crying for some more attention.”

“Yeah, need you to make the ache go away,” you say in a breathy whimper.

“I know you do,” he coos.

It’s a bit difficult in this position, but Leon manages to remove the last barriers of cloth separating the two of you. He lines up his dick with your entrance and slides home. Now it’s his head that falls on your shoulder as he groans. His stance didn’t really allow him to ease in. He was balls deep in the first stroke. You let out a long satisfied moan.

Taking a moment to readjust, he gets his elbows hooked under the bends of your knees. You’re basically bent in half, his cock to your cervix. This angle felt even deeper too. Your walls pulse around him as you work to accommodate the length.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Every part of you clings to me,” he grunts before taking a step away from the wall.

Losing the stability behind your back had you rocking and shifting more, causing his tip to nudge against all those sweet spots. Your thighs quiver as Leon gets into a rhythm and figures out how to bounce you on his cock like his. The sound of your skin meeting floats down the hallway. You whine and whimper, your eyes roll back as your head tilts the same direction.

He could tell you were loving it. Your favorite place to be combined with your favorite feeling in the entire world. There was nothing his sweet girl loved more than being stuffed full of cock and held by him.

“Feeling good, princess? Is daddy fucking you just how you wanted?” he asks.

“Mhm, mhm, mhm,” you whimper and nod dumbly.

“Good,” he says. He focuses on working himself in and out of you. His mind is locked on the sensation of your slick coating his shaft and collecting at the base, dripping down to his balls. But more words fill his mind and rush to his mouth to be let out. “This is why you’re so needy, right baby? You just need some cock in you or you get so frustrated. Can’t even think straight without your fill, can you?”

You shake your head wildly. Your legs tense over his arms. His hands dig into your back to keep you supported. You see his biceps flexing beneath his sleeves as he uses his strength to hold you up. He rocks you on his cock, back and forth, sliding himself in and out. You’re gasping and trembling more noticeably now. He knows you’re approaching the peak.

“Doing so good for me, precious,” he murmurs, “Keep squeezing me like that so I can fill you up just how you need.”

Your noises become more desperate. It feels as though you get even tighter. Leon slams into you deeper than you could remember. But then again, in this state, your memory wasn’t worth much. Pumping in and out, he sees your eyes squeeze show, your mouth widening into that cute familiar shape it always made when you came.

“Go ahead, baby. Make a mess for daddy,” he groans.

You do as he says, following your orders. You seize up and moan, long and loud. He tightens his grip and takes a step closer to the wall to ensure your high isn’t cut by falling. His hips don’t stop though. He feels that tensing in his belly. Gritting his teeth, he pounds you over and over until he has to stumble back to the wall.

You hit the surface with a thud, but he’s a little too busy to notice. He growls and whimpers into your neck, hips working at a more strained pace as he tries to grab that brief euphoria. A few thrusts later and release is washing over him. He fucks you full, going deep and staying true to his word about filling you up. He pumps every last drop in.

You slowly slide down in his arms till he lets go of your legs and your feet can touch the ground again. Looking up at him as he comes down, you watch his features melt into the relaxation of post-release. You lean up and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes open and look down at you. A lazy smile spreads on his face and moves in to return the gesture.

“So how’d I do?” he asks with that smug look you loved so much.

“Perfect like always,” you answer, genuine in contrast to his teasing. You step forward on wobbly legs, grabbing his hand to finish your trip to the bedroom together. He leans down and smacks a kiss on your neck.

“Clearly not perfect enough if you’re walking on your own now,” he purrs in your ear.

You smile and look down. “There’s still time to fix that,” you offer.

“Of course there is,” he agrees with a light swat to your ass. He pecks your lips once more before following you through the entryway to your shared room.

[luvjunie]

— matching nails

pairing: e-42!miles x fem!reader

summary: you ask miles if the two of you can paint your nails a matching color. wc: 476

contains: fluff, slightly posessive!miles

word bank: “princesa” - princess

you’re seated sideways in your boyfriend’s lap with your legs hung over his, trying— and failing to convince him to participate in a cute couple’s idea you found on tiktok.

“hell no.” the rejection comes even faster than you’d expected, a glum frown turning the corners of your lips downwards. you pout up at miles disappointedly, who is somehow still unmoved by your used-to-be undefeated persuasion tactic.

“but-“ you start.

“nah, no way princesa.” he interjected firmly, his fingers warm where they rested, curled over the skin of your exposed waist just beneath the hem of your crop top. “trippin’.” his chuckle lacked a single shred of humor.

you huffed, arms crossing and eyes rolling. “it’s just nail polish, miles, it’s not that big of a deal. you don’t wanna match with me?”

“shit, we can match some jordan’s. just lemme know what pair you want.” he snorted, finding your little tantrum adorable.

he obviously wasn’t taking you or your idea seriously, so you simply shrugged your shoulders and sighed dramatically. “fine, i’ll just ask someone else to do it with me then.” you mumbled, moving to stand up as you reached towards the desk for your phone.

“who?” his brow quirked, the vagueness of your statement piquing his interest almost instantly.

“chris.” you stated casually, his hand dragging down your hip as you moved out of reach.

“chris?” he parroted, the sound of the name drawn out in disbelief as it expelled from his mouth. the drastic change in his expression paired with the incredulous tone of his voice was comical, and you had to restrain yourself from laughing at his reaction to the mention of your made-up-guy-friend. “who the hell is chris?” his two braids draped over his shoulders when he sat up, forearms perched on his basketball short-clad thighs as he suspiciously watched you unlock your phone without answering him.

he kissed his teeth and impatiently leaned forward, his pointer finger hooking onto the belt loop of your jean shorts to swiftly yank you back over to him. with a squeal you stumbled back into his lap, your phone snatched from you at the speed of light and tossed over onto your bed a few feet away, your mouth slightly agape and hands still in the shape of what they were previously holding.

“you play too damn much.” his voice was low, brooding as he stared daggers into your eyes. “so who’s your lil’ friend? chris, right? he go to your school? you never mentioned him to me before.” once the questions started coming and his head tilted to the side with that familiar glint in his eye, you knew better than to keep the gag going, even if it was fun to see him squirm.

you shifted in his lap as your legs swung back and forth, an attempt to distract him from the playful smirk that threatened to expose itself on your expression, but he saw it anyway as you quickly shook your head. “no, baby, i was just kidding.”

“aw yeah, that’s what i thought.” he huffed out what was meant to be a laugh, sizing you up with a brief warning glance. you could tell he was thinking it over, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek when he glanced away, and a smile slowly grew on your face as he exhaled a heavy sigh. you always got what you wanted.

“show me the color you want us to do, mama.”

— extra scene

a/n: nah cause just imagine miles leaving with his uncle for a job, and as he goes to slide his mechanical gauntlet on, Aaron catches a glimpse of his nails and is like ??? 😭 imagine getting your ass handed to you by the prowler and bro has hearts painted on his nails

“hold on, lemme see your hand.”

it’s not like he had a choice, seeing as his uncle was already reaching for his wrist. miles wanted to stop him, but he knew it was no use, his hand limp in his uncle’s hold as it was pulled forward and brought closer for inspection.

“the hell you got your nails painted for, man?your girl made you do this or sum?” with an eyebrow raised he studied his nephew’s camouflaged expression, laughter tumbling from his lips when the boy grumbled a quiet ‘chill’, snatched his arm back and let his mask close over his face to hide the subtle tint of embarrassment blossoming on his cheeks.

- please do not copy, plagiarize, or repost my works to other platforms.

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated!

[roosterforme]

Party of Three, Checking In | Rooster x Reader

Summary: According to Bradley, your pregnancy was one of the most exciting things that had ever happened. He could see and sense the small changes in your body, and he was already getting into dad mode. And now, after weeks of waiting, he could finally talk about it whenever he wanted to.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, allusions to smut, pregnancy topics

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley had you half undressed on your bed with his hands on your hips and his lips on yours. You had no doubt that he was excited. You could feel him. His mustache prickled your nose, and you moaned, trying to get more friction against your body. You needed more of him everywhere, but he slowly started to pull away. He was distracted. His eyes were drifting to the nightstand, and you knew what he was looking for.

"Holy shit," he gasped, reaching to grab the pile of ultrasound images. He managed to persuade your doctor to print twenty of them for him at your appointment two hours ago. And he just couldn't seem to put them down even as you wrapped your legs around him and laughed.

"Roo, you're being a tease."

He groaned and looked at the pictures and then at your face. "I'm not trying to, Baby Girl. I'm just so fucking excited." His cheeks were flushed, and his pupils were blown wide as he added, "I can't get over how much the chicken nugget grew."

You bit your lip and ran your fingers through his already messy hair. The baby was starting to resemble an actual baby and not just a nugget. The heartbeat was strong, and everything was going great. You didn't even feel as sick as you did a few weeks ago. But Bradley was leaving very soon for another deployment, and you didn't want to rush him through his feelings. 

When you leaned up and pressed your lips to the paper airplane tattoo on his right bicep, his attention returned to you. "You'll be the best Daddy in the world," you promised.

"Sweetheart," he moaned, finally giving you some of that friction you needed with his big, warm body. "Call me Daddy again."

You ran your tongue over his tattoo before you whispered, "Daddy."

He tossed the ultrasound photos aside, and then his lips met your belly. "I love you. I love you both so much. I'm so excited."

------------------------

On Saturday morning, it was hard to be upset about his upcoming deployment when Bradley took one good look at you. Your eyes were bright, and your smile was wide as you carried the iPad and a few of the ultrasound photos over to where he was sitting on the couch waiting. 

"You ready for this?" he asked, kissing along your neck as you turned the tablet on. "God, you smell good."

"Probably because I spilled coffee on my shirt," you murmured. 

Bradley grinned as you started up the facetime call to your parents. You were wearing his old shirt, and he ran his nose along your ear and whispered, "You always smell nice."

You made a soft sound as the iPad rang. "You're just extra horny for me right now because of the Nugget."

"Perhaps," he replied, fully knowing he was usually like this. "But you're over the top for me right now, so it's only fair."

"Hi!"

Bradley jumped a few inches away from you as your mom answered the call. "Hey, mom," you said with a smile as you tried to pull Bradley's hand out from under the shirt you were wearing. When he looked at himself on the tablet screen, he realized his cheeks were flushed, so he scooted a couple more inches away from you and tried to keep his hands to himself. 

"Wait, hang on and I'll get Dad." Your mom vanished from view, but Bradley could hear her calling your father's name loudly throughout their house. 

"They are going to lose their minds," you whispered excitedly as you laced your fingers with his. The two of you had been waiting until after your twelve week appointment to start telling family and friends about your pregnancy. On top of your nausea finally starting to calm down, you looked absolutely stunning. Bradley could finally admit that yes, your ass was looking a little bigger these days, but definitely in a good way. You kept telling him you were bloated, but he thought you looked like a fucking goddess. There was just something extra delightful about your tits now, too....

"Hi," your dad huffed, clearly out of breath as he and your mom both appeared on the call. "Sorry, I was outside getting ready to cut the grass."

You turned to look at Bradley, and he nodded at you with a little grin. "We won't keep you too long. We just wanted to tell you something."

"Is everything okay?" your mom asked, brow furrowed as she leaned a little closer to the screen. "Bradley, did something happen with your deployment? Is it longer now?"

"No," he replied immediately, because she sounded so worried. "We're calling about something exciting. Well, we're excited about it, and we think you will be, too."

Your parents still looked confused as you leaned in to kiss his cheek. Then you held up one of the new photos of the nugget and said, "I'm pregnant. You're going to be grandparents."

Your dad gasped, and your mom was immediately shoving her reading glasses onto her face to get a better look. "Grandparents?" your dad asked with a smile, but your mom shrieked. 

"Grandparents," Bradley confirmed a little louder over the delighted screaming.

"Oh my god!" your mom wailed, shaking her husband. "We have to move to California. Take the early retirement package. We have to move! We're going to be grandparents!" Then she looked back at the iPad as you started to laugh. "I'll call our realtor on Monday, and I'll start looking at listings in San Diego again. When are you due? I wonder if we can move by the spring!"

"Late March," you told her as you held the ultrasound images a little closer to the camera for your dad to look at while your mom started to pace.

"Kind of looks like a cute chicken nugget," your dad said with a soft smile. 

"Right?!" Bradley said excitedly. "That's what I've been saying!"

Your dad reached for your mom and finally got her to stop walking around the kitchen in a daze. "Your mom and I have been talking about moving anyway, and being in a warmer climate near the two of you.... I mean the three of you... would probably be ideal."

Bradley noticed a few happy tears in your eyes as well as your mom's. "That would be great, dad," you whispered.

A few minutes later, you and your mom were all giggles as you ended the call, and Bradley couldn't stop smiling either. After you tossed the iPad and the photos onto the coffee table, you crawled onto his lap and cupped his face in both of your hands. "I can't wait to tell everyone at the Hard Deck tonight," you whispered, letting your forehead rest against his.

"Nat is going to lose her fucking mind," he muttered, his lips brushing yours. "She spent years picking on me for being unwilling to settle down, and now we're having a kid."

Truthfully, he never minded. Nat kind of became his family after his mom died; she was the first person he really opened up to. She was there to witness the aftermath of his one night stands and his adamant insistence that bachelorhood was what he wanted. He just never knew he could have a partner until he met you. 

You raked your fingers through his hair, soothing him in that way that only you could as you kissed the scars on his cheek. Then you whispered, "I'm glad we told your parents first."

Somehow you always knew what to say and when to say it. Bradley tightened his hold on you until your chest was pressed to his. "You made that happen," he muttered. "Because you're perfect."

Your cheek came to rest on his shoulder, and Bradley could hear tears in your eyes as you said, "I wish I could have met them."

"Don't cry, Baby Girl. My parents are smiling somewhere at the thought of the nugget. I just know it."

It took Bradley a minute to realize that your soft breathing and limp arms around him meant that you were asleep, and he had to try not to shake you with his silent laughter. He knew you were exhausted so he sat quietly with your body cradled against his, looking forward to the day when he could hold you in one arm and the baby in the other. 

----------------------------

Everyone seemed to think the whole purpose of the night out at the Hard Deck was to wish Bradley and Reuben good luck on their upcoming special deployment, and that was fine with you. That was part of the reason you tried to get everyone to come out on Saturday evening for a drink, but it wasn't the only reason.

"You ready to go?" Bradley asked as he walked into the bedroom where you were still getting dressed. You took one look at him in his snuggest fitting pair of jeans and the tropical print shirt that matched the one you were wearing. You squeaked softly.

"Almost." But now you were thinking about just staying home, unzipping his jeans and getting in bed. "You look hot."

He smirked and picked up the ultrasound photos as you struggled to button your own jeans which were starting to feel a little tight now just like your uniform pants. "And you look like I'm gonna fuck you hard into the bed later tonight."

"Let's stay home," you said quickly, but he was already shaking his head.

"I want everyone to know about the nugget before I deploy. You'll just have to whine and bug for me to bring you home from the bar earlier rather than later."

You rolled your eyes but led the way out to the kitchen where you pulled a bottle of Gatorade from the refrigerator. It was icy cold, and you knew it was going to taste delicious, but you didn't want to open it until you got there. Bradley led you outside to his Bronco and buckled you in after he handed you the pictures of the baby. It wasn't a long drive to the Hard Deck, and the two of you started taking bets about who was going to cry.

"Mav will shed some tears," Bradley rasped as he drove.

"No, he won't!" you insisted. "But Maria will. And so will Bob and Penny."

"There's no way Bob will cry."

"He will!"

"Nah. But I think you're underestimating how sappy Maverick can get."

You shook your head as he pulled into the parking lot. "What if everyone cries?Oh my god, what if nobody cries?" you asked as you walked along, holding his hand.

"Nat is a given," Bradley said, leaning down to kiss your cheek as he pulled the door open for you to walk into the noisy bar. "Just wait."

With your fingers laced together, you and Bradley headed right for the bar where Penny was taking a handful of orders. When she caught sight of the two of you, she held up two fingers. "This is where the fun begins," you whispered as Bradley held up just one finger in response. Penny looked a little confused, but she got just one bottle of your favorite beer ready instead of two. When she set it down, you asked, "Penny, could I get a straw for my Gatorade?"

"Sure," she told you with narrowed eyes, reaching for a straw without taking her eyes off you as you opened your drink. "Here you go."

"Thanks!" you replied cheerfully. When you walked away with Bradley's big hand resting just above your butt, you felt her eyes following the two of you. "I think she's suspicious."

"Excellent," Bradley murmured before taking a sip of his beer. The first person to greet both of you near the pool table was Reuben who would be leaving with Bradley on this dreaded deployment. 

"What's up man?" he asked your husband before leaning down and pulling you in for a hug. "Hey, can you bake some of those cookies I like and send them away with Rooster?"

You laughed and pecked him on the cheek. "Yes. As long as you look after him for me."

"I always do," he told you with a wink. He looked at your drink and asked, "You want something from the bar?"

"Nope," you told him, hoisting your plastic bottle a little higher as Bradley's hand slid lower to your butt. "I'm all set."

"O-kay," he said, looking as puzzled as Penny. Everyone was used to seeing you and Bradley with matching beers in your hands, including Cam and Maria who both materialized next to you.

"Which aviators are single again?" Cam asked, glancing around so suspiciously you snorted.

Maria smirked and said, "Not Bradley. Not Jake. Not Bob."

You gasped as you looked at Bob leaning on the edge of the pool table lining up a shot next to Maverick. "You made it official? You're not just fucking and cuddling with him all night?"

"It's official," she said, smiling at him when he looked up at her. Then she turned back to you. "Want me to get you a beer or a tequila shot or something?"

"No, I'm good," you told her, tapping her drink with your Gatorade. 

"Mmmk," she said, giving you a bit of side eye as she walked away. Now Bradley was talking to Jake and Cat about his deployment. They were the only two here who already knew you were pregnant and that tonight was supposed to be the unveiling.

"Nobody guessed yet?" Cat whispered to you. "I've never seen you drink anything except a beer when you're out for the night."

You shook your head and laughed. "Give it another minute." 

When Bradley's hand slid down to cup your butt through your jeans, you had to press your lips together to keep from giggling. He kept telling you that the way you were filling out your pants was working for him, and you'd taken to wearing yoga pants around the house with more frequency as a result. 

"Here she comes," Bradley rasped next to your ear, sending a ripple of anticipation down your spine as his best friend came barrelling your way. He gave you a little pat and pushed you toward Phoenix.

"Hey, Nat," you greeted with a smile.

"What is this shit?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at your Gatorade. "I'll get you a real drink." Then she glanced at Bradley where he was hovering next to you with a grin. "The two of you look like idiots in your matching shirts, and I am not saying that with love."

He burst out laughing. "Thanks, Nat."

"Let's get that drink," she said, but then her eyes shifted between Bradley's face and yours as you brought the straw up to your lips and took a long sip. Bradley's hand migrated from your butt, wrapping around your waist and pulling you slightly in front of him as his palm came to rest on your belly over your tropical button down. 

"I'm actually all good with this one." Now, when you raised your bottle, Nat's gaze dropped down to Bradley's hand, and she gasped so loudly, she sloshed some of her drink onto her hand.

"You're not. Are you?" she asked, eyes wide. "Are you? Bradley!"

When you looked up at your husband, he leaned down and kissed you as he chuckled. He was looking at you with the most loving expression, his gaze never wavering as he said, "Go on ahead and say it, Nat."

"Are you pregnant?" she practically screeched, and when you looked at her and nodded, she burst into tears.

"You were right," you told Bradley as his best friend slammed into him, the liquid from her glass sloshing all over Mickey. "She's definitely crying."

"Crying about what?" Bob asked in alarm. "What's wrong?"

"Rooster's gonna be a dad!" Nat wailed, squeezing him around the waist before switching and hugging you tight. "He knocked up his wife, and that's why she's drinking Gatorade!"

Next thing you knew, Bradley was unbuttoning his shirt with a bright smile, revealing the tee underneath that read Dad in the Streets, Daddy in the Sheets.

"Roo!" you gasped when you read it, but it was too late for you to be annoyed by it. Your friends were closing in on the two of you, and you reached out for Bradley's hand. 

"Congratulations!"

"I was wondering why you were drinking a Gatorade!"

"Are you serious right now?!"

"This is so exciting!"

Bradley only released your hand to give Maverick a hug, and you were surprised to find that he was definitely crying. But now you were crying, too. Because everyone you cared about knew now. Bradley's parents and your parents and the community of friends that you loved so much. They all knew.

"A round of Gatorades on me!" Cam called out before picking you up off the floor in a bear hug. "Oh shit, I don't want to hurt the baby," he said before practically dropping you back on the floor. 

But then Jake caught you in his arms while someone handed Bradley a bottle of champagne. "I'm happy for you, Angel. I know how much you both wanted this. That man worships the ground you walk on. It's actually pretty distressing to think about, but he'll be the same way with the kiddo."

You couldn't even keep track of how many people had given you a hug. Penny brought you some sparkling grape juice, and Reuben offered to run to get food if you were hungry. You kept swiping at the tears in your eyes, but Bradley had no shame at all. 

"I love you, Baby Girl!" he called from a few feet away where he was handing out the ultrasound pictures like they were celebratory cigars and sipping on the champagne bottle. "Look how adorable this nugget is," he was telling Nat and Maverick. "I'm gonna have the cutest baby ever. I mean look how fucking perfect my wife is."

You found his obnoxious shirt more endearing now than annoying, and when you tucked yourself against his side, his lips tasted like champagne. And he smelled delicious. And he looked incredible. "Oh no," you moaned softly as he put the remaining few photos in his jeans pocket. "Roo."

He looked down at you and smiled before chugging what was left in the bottle. You watched the scars pull taut on his neck as he swallowed, and your hand came to rest on his abs. After he swiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he asked, "You about ready for me to take you home and fuck you hard into the bed?" 

You didn't even care who heard him as you dug the Bronco key out of his pocket. "I'll drive, Daddy. You save your energy."

After that, you and he made a pretty hasty exit which was a surprise to exactly nobody. As much as you were dreading sending him on a deployment while you were pregnant, you know that you'd have so many people around you who would be happy to help you if needed. 

Once you started to buckle Bradley into the passenger seat, he placed a few sloppy kisses on your cheek. When he pulled you onto his lap, you whispered, "I'm going to have the sweetest baby in the world. I mean look how fucking perfect my husband is."

He cupped your cheek with a dreamy look in his eyes. "Let's go home."

-----------------------

Bradley was bursting at the seams with excitement! Dad mode has been activated. Baby Girl seems to be over the morning sickness hump. And pretty soon we'll send Bradley away. I'll post a few more one-shots, and then we dive into a new series! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[fooled-around-and-fell]

your geto fic is super cute 🥰 if you're taking more requests, may I request a sukuna fic please? maybe in an au where he's a gangster and reader is of a classy, rich family so reader's parents don't agree, but then sukuna appears in one of their events in a suit and looking dashing as ever!

ooooooooo it's 3 am but i have to write this down!!!!!!!!!

shadows and silk.

summary: sukuna shows you and your parents that he is absolutely the right and the only man for you (whether they agree or not) genre: angst/fluff pairing: gangster!sukuna x female reader warnings: cursing, modern day au, not a great parent-child relationship, ooc sukuna

Masterlist

-----

your father doesn't even bother to hide his disapproval. "he has tattoos on his face. what if he's in the mafia- what have you brought our family into?!"

"father-"

"i am," sukuna clarifies, "in the mafia. my father is the leader. and one day, it'll be my time to lead."

your parents gasp in shock, surprised by sukuna's brashness.

"that wasn't a threat," he clarifies again, holding your hand. "i love your daughter, and i'd like to have a good relationship with you both. because it's important to her."

you smile appreciatively and grasp his hand, looking at your parents with hope.

"you're fucking insane."

-----

it was probably not the wisest decision to ask for your parents' approval, knowing what kind of people they are. being one of the richest families in the country, it's hard to have... any kind of life outside of what they had planned for you. like a pawn in their game of chess, your choices have been made for you since the very beginning.

unlike sukuna, you grew up "perfect". you aced your piano lessons, easily graduated from your violin school, and got straight As in all your grades. every day was the same for you; wake up, school, extra lessons, homework, sleep, and repeat.

that's actually how you met sukuna. one day, there was something wrong with the traffic so your driver was late. you'd been waiting for an hour, and sukuna just happened to finish his detention.

"hm?" his eyes caught you standing by the gate. "aren't you that rich kid?"

you looked up at him and analyzed his face -- high school student with face tattoos, you don't see that very often. "who's asking?"

"tsk, tsk." he chuckled, "so much attitude for a little person." he ruffled your hair before walking in the other direction. "wanna come? i'm gonna go have some fun."

fun... the word was so unfamiliar to you. you'd never talked to him before, and though it really was probably dangerous to just go with someone whose name you didn't even know, you couldn't help yourself. especially not when he turned around with a smile, urging you to come with him.

he took you to places you've never been before and made you feel things you've never felt. you felt free from your parents' chains, for once you felt like you could do whatever you wanted.

and sukuna was glad he could make you smile. you, the girl who always kept to herself in class, quiet, polite, almost scared. you made him feel things, too.

you got an earful from your parents that day, but the cute keychain sukuna won you from the night market was worth it.

now, the keychain hangs on your favorite bag, one that he also got you a few weeks ago. though you already have multiple designer bags that are much more expensive, the bag sukuna gave you was priceless.

"morning, baby." sukuna greets you, kissing your cheek.

"morning," you smile at him. "i'm sorry for how yesterday went. my father, he's-"

"let him be," he says. "nothing can keep me away from you, understand?"

you smile at his words and nod, "you better keep it as a promise."

sukuna smiles and kisses you, "i swear it."

he wonders what he could've possibly done to deserve someone like you.

-----

"what do you mean i'm getting married?"

your father sighs. "don't be difficult. the gojo clan is the most powerful, you should be thankful they're letting you marry their son."

"but father, i have a boyfriend, and i just graduated college! i- i can't marry, i still have so much i want to-"

"enough!" he yells, "you're marrying gojo satoru by the end of next month and that's final."

you're lucky that you have your own apartment. dialing sukuna's number, you get into your car and drive home where sukuna says he's waiting for you.

"ugh, unbelievable!" you throw your keys on the table, letting it slide off and annoying you even more.

he grimaces and sits you down, handing over a glass of water. "so it didn't go well..."

you sigh, "...they're arranging a marriage. with the gojo clan."

sukuna's jaw clenches, anger evident, but then it disappears. "that makes sense. they are the strongest and the richest."

"they're not giving me an option, like always-"

"gojo satoru is pretty handsome," he continues, "blue eyes, tall, quite built.. he's not a bad bachelor."

you squint your eyes at your boyfriend who seems like he's talking nonsense... or not really. "what are you trying to say?"

sukuna sighs. "we should break up."

the words that come out of his mouth after that are all blurry to you. something along the lines of...

"we've been together for years."

"it's time to get a fresh start."

"aren't you curious what it's like to date other people?"

"i'm getting bored to be honest."

and it all just seems like bullshit. bullshit because why is he looking at you like that when he's breaking up with you? why does he look like he's still madly in love with you and saying all that stuff is killing him?

why does he look like he's lying?

"tell me you're joking."

sukuna, unfortunately, doesn't humor you and leaves you alone in your apartment without saying anything else.

the rest of the month feels like hell. you tried running away from your parents, the guards they sent after you, but to no avail. somehow, they've repurchased your apartment and now you're back to living with them.

you met gojo satoru once throughout the entire month. he's decent, and actually a good guy like sukuna said, but he's not sukuna. he doesn't leave a random flower he picked up on the way to your place, he doesn't shower your hands with kisses when he sees you, and that's all expected -- because it's not supposed to be a loving relationship. it's a contract. once you marry him, your parents' company will merge with the gojos and become even richer.

today's the engagement party. your mother has chosen the perfect red gown for good luck, and she's made all the preparations for the party -- you, like always, never had a say in anything.

you feel like an object for them to trade with. compared to the gold bars sitting in their safe, you're probably worth less.

"i know you also didn't agree to this," gojo satoru whispers as you're both sat down in the middle of the ballroom while everyone else enjoys their meal. "but you look beautiful."

you offer him a polite smile, which turns rather sad. hidden in your sleeve is the keychain sukuna got you. your mother managed to throw away every cherished memory you had of him except for the keychain.

you wonder what sukuna is doing right now... if he's enjoying his life, if he maybe has a new girl by his side...

"sorry to shit on your party," your head snaps up the moment you hear that familiar voice, and a gasp escapes when you see the even more familiar tattooed face with pink hair. "but i'm going to have to kidnap your fiancee for a bit. maybe forever."

"..ryo." you stand up abruptly, letting your chair fall and hit the ground. he's dressed in a white suit, black vest, black shirt, and a matching black tie. he looks like he's ready to be your groom.

giving you the smile you miss most, sukuna stands in front of you and grabs your hand. "hi, princess."

"what are you doing here?" you whisper, tears about to fall from your eyes.

"saving my damsel in distress." he softens when he sees your lip tremble, kissing you gently. "i told you nothing can keep me away from you."

"but you-"

behind you, gojo satoru clears his throat, motioning to the many guards surrounding both of you, ready to pull you two apart by force.

"let my daughter go right now." your father demands.

you grasp sukuna's arm tightly, not planning on letting him go any time soon. in return, he has his arm around your waist, pulling you to him gently before he snaps his fingers, revealing rows and rows of armed men ready to fire.

the guards immediately stand down, obviously outnumbered. they let you and sukuna leave without a fight, and you stop for a second to spare a glance at your parents, looking at you disapprovingly.

-----

you're sitting on sukuna's bed. you've only been to this place a few times, considering he moves around a lot. he's helping you with the infinity amount of hairpins you have stuck in your hair while you take off the red gown you're wearing.

"ryo," you call him.

he hums to acknowledge you, mouth full of hairpins.

"...why did you break up with me?"

taking out the last piece of hairpin (he thinks it's the last), he throws them away before sitting behind you, arms snaked around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

"i... i thought i was doing you a favor," he admits, "with my job... it's not easy being with me, you know? i'm scared you'll think i'm a monster for what i do - it still terrifies me."

"so i thought if i just pushed you away, it'll make things easier for both of us," his grip on you tightens, "but it didn't. at least not for me. and i know i'm being selfish here by wanting you back, i know i don't deserve it, but i just... i can't imagine living without you. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry."

you turn around to face him, straddling his thighs and kissing him softly. "if being selfish means i'm stuck with you, then you need to be more selfish."

he grins, arms wrapping around you. "i love you."

"i love you more, ryo."

[josephquinnswhore]

Devil’s Antics

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader.

Summary: joel explores unspoken territory.

Word Count: 1.8k

Content Warnings: established relationship, age gap, daddy kink, use of pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart, honey), (reader mid 20’s Joel is in his 50’s.) somnophilia, dubcon, p in v, creampie, thigh riding, reader is asleep for most of it. Joel Miller wearing reading glasses 🥵

Note: game/og Joel is the love of my life if you don’t like him, go kick rocks. 🪨

It had been a day, Joel could concede the fact as soon as you had walked in the door. Usual infectious smile was nowhere to be seen, he felt unnerved by the way your lips were pulled into a tight line, noting how your bottom lip twitched in its struggle not to slip into a pout.

You were trying to stay strong, level-headed. Joel knew you were tough, you could handle things well, and when you couldn’t you’d always communicate the problem and together; create a solution to free you of your metaphorical chain and shackle.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Is what he’d gotten from you, avoidant eyes and a wave of your hand, monotonous voice set him on edge. The stress radiated from your body like heat waves.

His hand slipped onto your shoulders, only adding to the extra pressure that they struggled underneath. “Let me at least run you a bath sweetheart, it’ll help you relax.”

Another disinterested reply, a shortened mumble of, “I’m fine. Just want to sleep it off.”

He felt stumped; you could be so stubborn. He was here offering solutions, ways in which he knew he could help and be of use and you outright refused. There was no negotiation, straight dismissal. He found it hard to admit that it hurt, god it hurt him. He felt rejected.

A voice of reason in his mind, told himself that he’d never seen her like this, that something so profoundly stressful must have happened for her to be like this.

As you’d said to him, once tomorrow would come and you were rested, they’d talk.

He spends a while in the living room; reading a few chapters of his book before he marks the page by folding the top corner over. A ghost of a smile grew on his lips as he heard your scornful voice in his head.

“You’re going to ruin the books Joel, use a bookmark for goodness sake!” He folded the paper anyway, maybe if you’d noticed it would give you another reason to talk to him.

His pointer and thumb reach up to take his glasses off, pinching them in the worn spot where the temple of his glasses meets the small silver hinge. He sets the book down, then places the glasses on top of them, he’s careful to make sure they’re leaning on the temples, not the lenses.

He feels a heavy feeling forming in his chest, like he’s worried you won’t want him there. Would you; want him there? The thought makes his hand hover above the door handle before he turns it, cursing the sound of the squeaky door hinges that could use some lubricating.

He was sure Tommy mentioned finding an old can of WD-40 on his last patrol.

You’re fast asleep, miraculously through the squeaky door and Joel’s heavy footsteps on the wooden floor throughout the house.

His heart swells when he looks at you; your lips are parted and there’s a frown strewn on your face, skin wrinkling around your eyes. God, you’d probably have crows feet before you turn 30.

“Oh baby, look at you.” He mutters to himself, shaking his head. You went to bed wearing one of his shirts and no pants.

He doesn’t bother to undress, not thinking he’ll get much sleep anyway. He lies there, turning his head to the right so he can watch you sleep, it disturbs him; how even in sleep whatever has you worried plagues you in your sleep.

Watching your chest rise and fall, his own breathing becomes synchronised with your own, heart beating at the same pace as he starts to grumble, his tired eyed begging to be closed for some rest. It takes mere minutes before he finds himself unable to keep his eyelids open.

He stirs, hearing soft whimpers coming from your lips, when he opens his eyes he sees that your lips are still parted, a small puddle of drool has accumulated on your yellow pillowcase.

He can’t help but chuckle at the sight. Until you whimper again, and he takes you in, he realises he’s in a predicament.

Your two thighs are wrapped around his own, locking him in place as your hips rut against his leg, the cause of those sweet sounds coming from your lips. He freezes for a moment; wondering what he should do.

He considers waking you up, shoving you off or even trying to pull his leg away to free himself of your devious grip on him. But he doesn’t. He feels a wave of sympathy.

Here was his poor baby, face strewn in a stressed-out frown and out of desperation, rutting and grinding her panty clothed cunt onto his rough, jean-clad thighs, like her life depended on it.

How could he deny you? He couldn’t.

He felt a tingle shoot down his spine, his cock hardened, stiff and uncomfortable in his jeans, as he watched you using his body in your sleep to get yourself off.

His poor angel is reduced to this, so stressed and exhausted from whatever you’re juggling has you so needy, so desperate and too anxious to ask him to actually fuck you to feel that release.

It was a no brainer to him-to help you. You were his angel, his baby. He wouldn’t let you suffer, you were too restless and you deserved to sleep without interruption. The peace of sleeping without stress on the back burner of your subconscious.

Desire washes over him, his large hands grip your hips, guiding you slowly to grind into his large thigh, still facing each other. His eyes flicker over your body, realising already, how you look less pent up than earlier. Calloused fingertips are soft on your skin as he grips your torso softly, pulling you closer into his chest.

His lips start kissing your neck, softly and gently, careful not to wake you. Small groans get stuck in the back of his throat as you continue to whine desperately for more friction.

He closes his eyes, voice husky with desire as he speaks. “It’ll be okay now honey, I’ll give you everything you need.”

Arousal fuels his actions, lips attacking your soft neck down to your collarbone, his hand sneaks under the material of his shirt on your delicate skin. He groans as he feels your nipples are hard against his thick fingers.

Your hips against Joel’s had slowed down, the rhythm becoming less synced, more sloppy, his heart pounded as he realised how close you were.

“You’re almost there princess, just let daddy take care of you. You know he looks after you.” He wasn’t trying to be quiet anymore, hell if he woke you up, he wouldn’t mind at all.

Moments later a string of quiet and frantic whines left your lips, body slumped and stilled as you cum from riding his thigh. The wet spot on his jeans is what drives him wild, a primal growl leaves his lips, and he can’t control the desire he has to take you here, as you slept.

“You wouldn’t mind”, he reasoned aloud. “You’d wanna help your daddy wouldn’t you angel?” He muttered as he pulled his jeans down to his knees, pulling his aching cock out of it’s containment.

His fingers peel your soaked panties to the side, cursing when he feels with his fingers that your cunt is dripping with slick. He couldn’t fight the devil’s temptation, the sin of lust had already possessed him and your sweet, sweet juices coated his fingertips.

He dragged his sticky fingers down his cock, pumping it a few times before lining himself up to your hole. He exhaled a few times as he pushes himself in, animalistic grunts leaving his lips at the feeling.

You stir for a moment, Joel stills and makes sure you’re asleep before he continues. He pumps himself into you, hips meeting yours in a slow motion, teasing himself, watching you be so vulnerable under him sent an arousal though his entire body.

He felt his orgasm coming on fast than it had ever before.

“That’s it angel..” He grunts, unable to stop the words from slipping past his lips. “I’m almost done princess, just let daddy use you.”

His body shakes heavily as he ruts into you, going deeper. His arms have moved so they’re now wrapped around you, and his voice is a little breathless and even more husky as he lets out small groans and moans.

But he's still holding himself together fairly well considering how close he is to falling apart. His body still tenses up, though, as he continues to fuck her while she sleeps.

Joel doesn’t feel bad, like he can’t comprehend why this would be such a terrible thing if you did wake up—he’s past the point of feeling guilty, he knows you’d want to be his good girl and help him finish.

“You're such a good girl.” He murmurs softly, his voice is slightly breathless and husky as he stares at her and kisses her softly on the lips.

He grunts softly and shifts his body even closer to her, so he’s flush against your chest. His legs are still shaking a little, and he feels a rush as he gets close to cumming and almost reaches it.

“Almost…” He trails off, his voice a mere whisper.

“Just... give me a minute... and I'm all done…” He adds softly, his voice cracking as he starts to come undone.

His grip on your hips tighten, cock now slamming into your hole harshly, crushing your body under his as he rams into you, Joel’s starting to lose his composure, not worried about waking you anymore.

He lets out an animalistic growl as he cums, long ropes of cum filling your spend cunt, trickling down your thighs and onto the bedsheets as his cock continues to pulsate into you.

“Fucking—Jesus baby you’re squeezing me.” He growls, feeling your cunt squeeze around him, you moan loudly and he realises that you’ve just had an orgasm.

Your eyes shoot open and it doesn’t take long to put the pieces together. Reality hits him as he realises what he’s done. Joel’s face suddenly turns to one of guilt, panic. He pulls out of you and starts breathing heavily.

“Baby—I can.. I’m sorry I wasn’t—I didn’t think.. I don’t know what came over me.” He stuttered, voice thick with emotion, his hazel eyes were soft and it was clear as day he couldn’t resist it.

You feel your face and neck warm as you take his hand in your own. “It’s okay, I like it—seriously. It’s sexy, the idea of you taking what you need and looking after me is perfectly okay with me baby.”

He starts to calm down, long arms extending to pull your body into his own, you’re both sweating and covered in cum.

“You’re so good to me angel. I dunno what I’d do without you.” He mutters tiredly, nuzzling his crooked nose into her hair.

This would need to be an in depth discussion. That could be done in the morning; for now, you were happy, Joel was happy. That’s means enough to fall asleep in each other's arms happily for a few hours.

[cameronspecial]

Boyfriend Rules

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

Warnings:  N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 400+

Summary: Rafe isn't an idiot; he knows the rules of a boyfriend.

A/N: This idea came to me thanks to this Instagram post.

Masterlist

Y/N Maybank isn’t used to a life of luxury. She grew up on the Cut side of the island with a daredevil of a younger brother and an alcoholic father. She is used to working two jobs and taking care of her brother. But now that she is dating Rafe Cameron, he has made it his life mission to give her more to life than caring for JJ. She makes it incredibly difficult though because she is so used to taking care of herself. She had implemented a ‘Nothing over fifty dollars’ rule, meaning that he couldn’t pay for anything over that amount and an ‘I pay for every other date’ rule, which meant he couldn’t spoil her how he wanted to. She is the only one he takes orders from. 

However, on his birthday, she decides to lift those rules so that one of his greatest wishes comes true. They had spent the morning at several expensive brand-name stores buying everything he thought she looked great in, so literally everything she tried on. They had a late brunch at a very expensive establishment and spent the afternoon at a very luxurious spa. With everything he is buying her, one would think it was her birthday, not his. The final stop of the day was a fancy Michelin star restaurant that would’ve cost Y/N at least four months' worth of pay cheques to pay for everything Rafe bought them. The couple are returning to Rafe’s car when they come across a strip of grass. 

Y/N has been struggling all night with the Louis Vuitton that Rafe got her. Normally, she wears the same beat up running shoes because she couldn’t afford anything else, let alone a night out. She approaches the grass with hesitancy, but Rafe takes matters into his own hands. He wraps his arm just below her bum and lifts her up, her arm instinctively circles around his neck. She laughs at his antics, “Baby, what are you doing?”

“You may have your own rules but I also know the Boyfriend Rules.”

“And what would those be?”

“Well, I might get grief from the others for telling you but I can’t keep secrets from you. You shouldn’t let your high-heeled wearing girlfriend walk on any uneven or non-solid surfaces. You should always let her have the booth. You should always keep her on the building side of the sidewalk, away from the street. Always order extra food even though she says she isn’t hungry. And my personal favourite, always offer her your jacket when she is cold.” 

“I wasn’t aware those rules existed. But thank you. For everything you do for me and try to do for me. I appreciate it.”

She gives him a kiss on the cheek and then on his lips, which he receives with a childlike grin. They’ve both won the lottery when it comes to relationships.

[nwndrlndn]

pregnancy

pairing : anakin skywalker x pregnant!reader; | wc : 0.9k | 18+MINORS DNI

warnings : pregnancy kink ( but open to anyone with a womb ), possessiveness, anakin is a crep and perv, mildly objectifying, unhealthy relationships and worldviews, "mommy" is used once, mentions of oral

for the last 6 months, anakin watched as you continued about your daily life in the short bursts of time you spent together. between missions and meetings, in the few days off, and every night he could come home to you. every moment he could spend with you he would. and when the days finally came where your clothes grew too tight and you needed looser outfits, he would offer to get you your clothes and fabric orders. in the mornings, he would pretend to sleep to watch you dress.

but it wasn’t enough. he waited patiently, smirking when people noticed the small and excusable signs of your current state. he knew you hated to lie but there was a certain wave of desire that washed over him, watching as you lied through your teeth as you claimed cravings were caused by a longing to travel freely and your irritable morning state on having rough nights. though he knew just how good your nights were, after all, he was the one helping you release after such long, busy days.

so when you finally started to show, his ego soared, especially as your bump seemed to grow faster than you could prepare for. ever the doting husband, anakin offered and advocated so that now he could help you get ready in the mornings and undressed at night. buttoning, zipping, brushing, smoothing, tying, and adjusting. and teasing, his hands had access to every part of you because you trusted him. but you also wanted to tease him. that had to be it. why else let him be the only one so close to you? to touch you each night and care for you? 

and thats why when he came home from a mission, exhausted and singed from blaster shots and swings of red lightsabers that got too close, his breath stopped when he was greeted with the sight of you relaxed against your pregnancy pillow and your pristine white robe stretched to cover your bump, with a sliver of your bump still visible. he walked over to you, hanging up his coat and kicking off his boots mindlessly, his eyes focused on you as he worked his way out of his jedi robes.

“ani, you’re home! i wanted to show you something, i was looking into a place to stay and-”

“just a minute, my love.”

anakin felt bad, taking you by surprise and silencing you, and once he saw you begin to pout he reminded himself to be extra doting to make up for it. he was on you in an instant, careful not to put any weight on your stomach, his lips kissing your neck and shoulders. he tugs off your robe, setting it behind him as he moves to cradle you from behind, easing his cock into you as he holds you gently. he was so scared to hurt you and he held himself up to watch your face for any signs of pain, and once he was fully sheathed, he returned to littering your face and neck with kisses. 

for a moment, he wanted want to hold onto your hips and your waist and squeeze as long as he could. but you would whisper to remember the baby. and anakin wanted to tell you he was, he was being so careful with you and your precious baby, so just let him kiss your soft, glowing skin. let him thrust into you carefully, no longer aiming to fuck into you as deep as his anatomy allows. just let him have you, not the parent he’s making you into. his words are punctuated with kisses, and thrusts, strong but slow. anakin’s lips lingering by your ear when he wants you to hear him.

“just three more months, im gonna put another in you as soon as i can.”

“you look so good, baby. you're glowing.”

“you’re just as tight as you’ve always been.”

“i bet you’re gonna be a great mommy, and i’ll keep putting more in you.”

“there’s gonna be so many little skywalkers running around, the council’s not gonna know what to do with them all.”

he was desperate, but he wasn't selfish. his hands knew you well, knew every soft spot and each place you needed to be touched. anakin knew you needed this, just as much as he did and he treated you like you deserved. you deserved better than this galaxy, he only felt content once he watched your face contort in pleasure and felt how tightly your hole squeezed him. anakin came in you with a grunt, holding you to him as he shuts his eyes for a moment. he promised himself that once he finally relaxed again, he’ll go down on you until your eyes are too heavy to hold open. 

he was like those royal brats he meets across the galaxy, so absorbed in their dolls and themselves that they were useless to the world around them. but he understood them now, because he had you, and you had his child. you needed the care he provided, you needed him and so would your children, it was more binding than your marriage, it was something deeper than that. 

he could listen to your endless fantasies for your child because he wondered and hoped the same things to a certain extent. only he wished for a girl who looked just like you, and you wished for a boy for some foolish belief that it would make him happy to have his firstborn be a son. he couldn't care less. he had you, and the child was the proof of it. and he would take as many children from you so he could see how happy an army of his brats would make you.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Can you write something for: "being Tommy's wife"? Please. The girl would have been raised by Polly, who raised and loves her like a daughter. She grew up with the boys, especially Tommy. She witnessed Finn's birth and everything. When he goes to war, he promises to stay with her when he returns. Another, Tommy's brothers have her as a sister so they will defend her as one, Ada and her are best friends and Isaiah had a crush on her as a kid... Kisses, sorry for the long thing, I love your stories, see u later 🩷.

Hey Love,

I am deeply sorry this took a million years to write. Thanks for sending this in and for being so kind. I'm so happy that you enjoy my writing. Hope you like this one <3

Warnings: Peaky related themes like violence, murder, drunk dads, beatings, suicide, childbirth - and of course kissing and cuteness

You had always been close with the Shelby Family. Your mother died in childbirth leaving you without siblings, something that was easily remedied with the constant chaos of your next-door neighbors. You were often lumped in with them as your father worked constantly. You traded what extra things you had for their company. You weren't rich living on Watery Lane, but you always had extra bread which was kind of like being rich. 

As you got older you started to understand what happened down at the Betting Shop. You remembered Arthur taking Tommy aside and telling him to keep you as far away from there as possible. So he took you down to the cut and you spent most of your time with the horses in Charlie’s yard. 

Those moments were your happiest. Tommy was always around to get into trouble with. One night when your dad had laid a beating on you for ruining a pair of shoes in the stable he’d helped you climb out of your window across the ledge and into his bedroom. He’d fixed your swelling cheek with some ice wrapped in a kitchen towel. 

There was an unspoken easiness between the two of you. John and Arthur were different. John was always teasing you loudly and Arthur was always laughing. Always fun and games until someone was giving you a hard time, then they were all business. 

You’d been there for Finn’s birth. A memory that was both happy and sad. You normally avoided the Shelby parents at all costs. Mrs. Shelby had a dead look in her eyes and she would twirl around the kitchen talking to ghosts, other times she would cry out in the night so loud you could hear her in your own apartment. Mr. Shelby was mean. Not much to him other than that. Finn was special, he was the first baby you ever held. You had to help Polly clean him off and get him sorted when he was born. You remembered sitting down once he had been fed and fallen asleep. You sat down covered in after birth swearing you would never have children. Ever. 

Watching Tommy come into the room and hold his sleeping brother with a look in his eyes, something deep inside you reconsidered. 

Polly was alright, she’d always put bows in your hair and read your tea leaves. Out of all the adults in your life, you had the biggest soft spot for her. She had all the juiciest stories that made you want to go out and start living your own life. 

Something you were just on the cusp of doing before the war started. 

The boys left and you tried not to let it break you. The unmovable safety they had brought you was gone and the city seemed vicious. Tommy wasn't there when your father was drunk… Tommy wasn't there at all. You’d stayed awake all night before he left. Laying there with him talking about everything you wouldn't be able to talk about while he was gone. Well, almost everything. You held his hand and laughed till your ribs hurt at all his jokes about what it would be like and what he would do while he was gone. Anything to keep the truth of it at bay. You wanted to tell him how you felt but you didn’t want him to carry more burdens with him when he left. You promised him that Ada, Finn, and John’s kids wouldn't starve and he’d kissed your cheek and promised he’d come back for you. Those words haunted your every moment.

To avoid your father and the emptiness of missing Tommy you threw yourself into your job as a mid-wife. At the end of the day you would sneak food out of your pantry and bring it over to Polly. She ran a tight ship void of all the things you had enjoyed about her when you were a kid. She was hard on the kids and they were mostly Ada’s responsibility as Polly shouldered the betting shop. There was a balance, most of your money went to the household and Polly was always grateful for your help. Things were fine until they weren't. Young boys who weren't quite yet fighting age had started up gangs and more drugs and conflict swept through the streets of Birmingham. You ended up working while also causing lots of trouble. 

The worst night of it came just before Tommy had come home. You’d killed another stupid idiot pushing his wrapped body into the cut in the middle of the night. It was exhausting, for every life you brought into the world you ended another. A cycle you didn't think you would ever end up in. You knelt by the side of the river letting the rain soak through your clothes. Looking down into the black water you could feel the same pull that took Mrs. Shelby. It was calling out to you softly but you shook your head. You had a lot more fight still left in you. 

______________Tommy’s POV 

Coming home wasn't the relief he thought it would be all those years ago. He came home and you hugged him tightly. While you looked like you were bursting with life he felt like like he was dead on the inside. Your cheeks were flushed and your eyes bright. Your fingernails had a pink tinge to them. He’d hoped it was from your job as a midwife but he knew how bad things had gotten here. He could feel it in the way people looked at you on their walk home from the train station. Settling in was awful. The nightmares that kept him up at night, the sad sense of rejection that was growing around you. But the weight of the business is what was crushing him. He needed you and Polly out of it, he needed to step up as a man should. You especially should have never had to get your hands as dirty as they were. But there you were all those names etched into your soul, and you still looked at him with girlish adoration, as if he wasn't the man who had commended your life. 

Things between him and Polly had never been worse, any move he made she would disagree. You still kept looking at him with your big eyes full of emotions he didn't know how to feel anymore. 

Ada was a few years younger than you but you were both old enough now that it wasn't noticeable. He saw the both of you sitting on the front step watching some men moving furniture out of the house down the street. There were glasses of wine between you and the sun made the flush of your cheeks look so red. Ada mumbled something and waved to Isiah as he passed by and both of you burst into giggles. That’s when he realized if he didn't make good on his promise, you wouldn't be around. Men looked at you with fear, but they also acknowledged the fierce competence and loyalty you have. By the time he got the business up, and then got it legal, you would probably be married off. He hated the sense of panic he felt bubble up in his stomach. Just once he would like to feel something pleasant. 

All day he thought about what to do. They were drinking beer around the table. He was always happy listening to John and Arthur tell jokes. It made him happy that they had managed to keep more of themselves alive than he had himself. 

“Going to head out for the night. I’m on call tomorrow so I can only help around the house.” You looked at Polly who nodded. Your eyes flashed to him for a second before wrapping your wool shawl around your shoulders. 

“I’ll walk you home.” He could feel John and Arthur’s eyes narrow in on him as the silence rolled through the room. 

“You haven't forgotten I only live next door have you?” You smiled at him and gestured for him to come along. He followed you down the stairs and out the front door. Three steps to your front door and you turned to look at him.

“Well, this is me.” You pointed at the door giving him a smile. “I’d invite you in for a drink but my father wouldn't approve.” 

“Walk with me?” He asked and he wished there was more emotion in his tone. You raised your eyebrows and he almost wanted to laugh. 

“A private meeting with Mr.Shelby. Wow.” You linked your arm in his and he could tell that there was hurt under your humor. 

“Things-” His voice trailed off as he lost all the things he had thought about telling you. He wanted to tell you to marry him but that was much to forward you deserved something nice and for it to move at your own pace. 

“Are different” You finished. “You're not you, Polly is pulling her hair out, and your secret-keeping is making it impossible to help with the business.” 

“Precisely.” He said in a cold tone. He wanted to explain but the words were still gone. 

“Well, fix it then.” You said in a short tone. “You came home and made a mess of things, so fix it.” 

“It’s not that easy.” He pulled a cigarette out and offered you one. You nodded and he lit one, taking a drag then watched as you took it from him. Your lips perched where his had been a moment before. His eyes focused on your mouth and he could feel the tension become obvious. 

“I want to make things right between us. I’m just not sure how.” He said the words slowly finally dragging his gaze from your mouth. Your cheeks had flushed again and he fought the urge to stroke your cheek. 

“Thomas. All you have to do is trust me. Then talk to me. We spent our whole lives that way. Only four years were apart.” There was pleading your eyes and he wondered if he would ever be able to deny you anything. 

“Alright. I want to shoulder most of the business.” You sighed and he continued on. “Not because you and Polly aren't competent, but because things are even higher risk than they have been. I want to shoulder the consequences. To do that I need to keep you out of it.” 

“I don’t want you to face things alone. Not the risk or the consequences.” It was his turn to let out a sigh. 

“I know you don't, that’s why I -” He what? Was in love with you, wanted to marry you? Wanted to build you a life that would make any other woman on the planet die of a jealous heart? 

“You what?” They were by the cut now and you turned to look at him. You were angry and you had every right to be. 

“I want to marry you.” He blurted the words out and ran a hand through his hair. Your hands flew to your mouth and you looked at him with wide eyes illuminated by the moonlight. Was this positive or negative? The regret and embarrassment started to creep up his neck when you lunged at him. 

He stumbled slightly before properly handling your weight. Your arms were tight around his neck and all he could smell was the perfume along your neck. He took a deep breath, the first real breath he had taken since leaving France. He wanted the weight of you pressed up against him all the time. The feeling you brought him was enough to keep the demons at bay. How selfish was it of him to take this easy path out. He should have worked out a proposal and should have courted you properly. 

“We don’t - we could -” He tried to figure out what he wanted to ask. 

“Shut up and let me have my moment.” You said before pulling away enough to kiss him. It was soft and slow and he knew without a doubt he was yours forever. 

After a good amount of kissing, he smiled at you and meant it. He walked you home and then took his beating from Arthur and John. 

“I don’t care if God himself descended from the sky to claim her. She’s my sister and you won’t hurt her Tommy.” Tommy couldn't remember the last time he heard his brother’s voice sound so lethal. 

“You’ll be held to the same standards as any other dumbass wanting to date her,” John added. 

“Trying to do the opposite of hurt her.” He said wanted them to see he was trying to make you happy too. 

“That’s what they all say,” Arthur said with pointed eyes before bursting out into a booming laugh. “I want this to happen, brother I do. Just don’t mess around with her.” Arthur gave him a rough pat on the back and John started to make jokes about all the ways Tommy could disappoint you. 

Eventually, they let him go up to his room. You had already climbed across the ledge to his window and gotten into his bed.

“Took you long enough.” You said it as a joke but there was something in your voice that gave you away. You were starting to think he wasn't going to show up. 

“Boys had to rough me up a bit first.” Tommy shrugged his jacket off. 

“Why? what did you do?” Her eyes looked him over with concern. 

“Showed an interest in you. They had to do the usual.” He said absently changing into his pj’s trying to seem unbothered by your gaze watching him closely as he undressed. 

“What’s the usual?” You whispered.

“Bit of a beating, the usual threats. Part of dating someones sister.” 

“You mean any guy that’s wanted to date me has been roughed up by the three of you?!” 

“Yeah.” Tommy leaned against the wall looking at you laying in his bed in your night clothes. Head propped up on your arm. 

“I thought I was ugly.” You whispered still in shock over this news.

“What?!” Tommy laughed again. 

“None of the boys ever asked me out over the years. I thought I was ugly.” Tommy moved across the room and into the bed to assure you that you were never ugly.  

_____________________________

It took a lot of time to get out of that house on Watery Lane. Your father had passed before your wedding and Arthur walked you down the aisle. Ada and Poly felt all was right in the universe once you joined the family properly. They had a lot of fun planning the whole thing out. Your honeymoon was in the new house, a massive thing that Tommy had built for you.  It was large but warm.

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. ii

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter

chapter summary: Joel tries, and fails, to keep Sarah away from you, and you get to know the family across the street a little bit better. It’s a slow burn, so let the yearning begin, baby! pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 7.7k chapter warnings: some light angst, alcohol use, references to marijuana use, parental neglect. divorce mention, implied age gap. reader has daddy issues - shocker! a/n: Was absolutely floored by the love on part one. Seriously you all are the best. I hate doing chapter summaries because I don't like giving away too much info, so I'd suggest just reading this. This story might end up being a longer than six parts, because I don't want to rush anything and it's been really fun to write these relationships as they form! Let me know what you think :)

-March 25th, 2003- 

Joel cannot keep Sarah away from you. 

Unfortunately, he can’t blame her. Unlike him, she doesn’t need an excuse to show up on your doorstep after school and on the weekends to be in your company. Still, he doesn’t technically know you that well, and he imagines you didn’t intend to see her as often as you did after extending some kindness to his family for one night. 

Despite the two of you having not spoken since you helped him with the Tommy situation, Joel feels like he knows you, or is getting to know you, just from the snippets of information Sarah drops to him, which is then followed by a barrage of questions.

“Do you know she grew up in New York City? Have you ever been there?” 

“She gave me her old tennis racket. Do you think I could start taking lessons?”

“She says her brother got her front-row tickets to The Strokes last year. You like them, don’t you?”

Joel decides to give Sarah a talking to about her tendency to wander over to your house whenever she sees your car in the driveway. Perhaps you are just being friendly, and feel bad saying no each time she’s asked to come in. He tries to broach the subject with her one morning in the kitchen while she’s eating breakfast. They’re already running behind, her for school, himself for work, but neither of them are in a rush. If you’re already late, what’s an extra ten minutes?

“Take it easy, alright? She might not want company after a long day at work,” Joel leans over the countertop, hand wrapped around a mug of hot coffee, watching her shovel cereal in her mouth.  

“Dad, she said I could come over whenever,” It’s accompanied by an eye roll, which is a new thing that had started about six months back. Teenagers. Well, almost teenagers. She’s still the sweet kid he’s always known, he’s just playing with fire trying to talk to her at seven in the morning, an indent on the side of her face still fading from where she slept on a crumpled pillow. 

Joel was at least grateful that she did have occasional company on nights when he was working late. It made him feel better to know Sarah wasn’t alone.

“What do you even do over there?”

“Homework, reading….watching TV.”

“So the same thing you do here?”

Sarah thinks about it. “Well, no, because she’s teaching me to knit.”

“And what does she do while you do your homework?”

“She works too. Or makes calls.” Sarah smiles a little. “It sounds like people ask her for advice a lot. She does give good advice.”

“Better than mine?” Joel holds his hand over his heart with mock offense.

Sarah groans. “Relax, don’t get jealous…there’s just stuff I can talk to her about and not you. Girl stuff.”

“Girl stuff? What like, boys?”

“No, you wouldn’t get it.”

“I was a boy once.”

“Ew, dad, gross.”

“How is that gross?”

“Just- not everything is about boys, okay?”

Joel isn’t going to argue with that, and Sarah eventually goes back to finishing her cereal.

“Alright babygirl,” he raps his knuckles on the counter after he’s finished his coffee. “I’ve gotta load up the truck, and you better get going, or I’m gonna get an earful from Miss Davis.” He grabs his keys and his wallet, then yanks a baseball cap over his mess of hair that’s long overdue for a haircut.

“Oh, I bet she would love an excuse to talk to you,” Sarah slides out of her seat with her empty bowl and marches towards the sink to rinse it out, grabbing his empty mug on the way.

“What do you mean?” 

“Don’t you remember how giggly she was at parent-teacher conferences?” Sarah says. “I’ve never seen her so happy before.”

It’s Joel’s turn to roll his eyes. He’d pegged it as unusual, but never considered it was because Miss Davis was into him. He wishes Sarah isn’t so….observant. 

Over the years, Joel has basically kept his head down, doing his best to keep things together. Because of that, he feels like he’s sort of lost his ability to pick up on when women are interested in him. And it’s safe to say, in general, he’s had a pretty uneventful love life since Sarah’s mom left. 

For the most part, he got by on flings — one night stands, casual no-strings-attached arrangements that always fizzled out. Joel had never been a man who liked that sort of thing, and ultimately craved a deeper level of intimacy, companionship, but he had trouble sustaining anything more. And even when he thinks of the more serious relationships he’d had over the years, those were also never completely satisfying. 

The fact of the matter was that when you had a kid, you weren’t just looking for someone for yourself anymore. For most people, introducing their partner to their parents is always a big deal. But for Joel, it was always introducing girlfriends to Sarah. Over the last decade he’d only ever introduced her to three different women, and at that point he had usually been dating them secretly for several months before deciding that it was serious enough. It always felt like he was trying so desperately to ensure they liked each other. But he could tell that Sarah was never quite comfortable with any of them. And when they’d start asking about moving in, marriage, and babies — he’d always panic. It was reasonable for them to want those things, hell, he wanted those things. But it had to be the right person. He knew he couldn’t bring someone into his life, forever, that didn’t love Sarah like a parent should. Like he did. No one ever would, and because of that, he knows there’s a good chance it’ll just be the two of them forever.

So, even if Sarah’s teacher, as cute as she was, were to ask him out, he would never be able to go. But less for the latter reasons, and more because he knows he’d never hear the end of it from her. 

“Alright, that’s enough. I’m leaving in five minutes…with or without you.”

“Nooo!” Sarah screams in mock panic, scrambling upstairs to brush her teeth. 

Joel exits through the garage, grabbing a few extra tools from his workbench that he needs for the job today and a saw. 

When he opens the garage door, the harsh sunlight is the first thing to greet him, and then he sees you. 

You’re in your driveway across the street, barefoot and in a short, black silk robe that’s cinched at the smallest part of your waist. Next to you is a man in a suit, holding a briefcase and trying to straighten his tie. He can’t do both at the same time, though, so he pauses and turns to you, murmurs something, and you slow to help him, your fingers wrapping around the tie, tightening where it’s looped around his neck and tucking it into place, straightening his lapel before stepping away. The type of domesticity that doesn’t happen with a one-night-stand.

It makes sense, he thinks. That you’re with someone like that. It’s the world you’re in all day. And even though he’s standing in his own fucking driveway, Joel feels like he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to. Or maybe, he just doesn’t want to be seeing it. 

Joel tears his eyes away, putting his stuff in the back of the truck – the toolkit, the saw, glancing over to see the man kiss you on the lips and mutter something unintelligible before getting in a shiny, blue sports car. You nod, offer an easy smile, and stoop to pick up the newspaper. The car's engine roars to life, and you cross your arms, looking after it until it peels out of the cul-de-sac.

The bashful smile you’re wearing drops instantly once it’s out of sight, and he watches you pinch the bridge of your nose, and tilt your head back to the sky.

He turns before he gets caught, and slams the back of the truck shut, which is a little ignorant in hindsight. Joel looks over his shoulder to see your attention has shifted, and you’re shielding your eyes and squinting at him. 

Great.

“Hey Joel,” you wave, your opposite hand pulling at the bottom of your robe, in a futile attempt to cover yourself. You look good, obviously, but it makes Joel feel a little guilty to make the observation because it’s clear you didn’t actually intend to be seen like this.

“Morning,” he answers. 

“Where’ve you been?” you ask, crossing your arms across your chest. 

“Busy. Work.”

“That’s no fun but…same here, I guess,” You shuffle forward hesitantly. 

Joel takes a beat to think about what he’s supposed to say in response, but doesn’t get the chance, because you speak up again.

“Hey uh, not to put you on the spot, but were you actually serious about fixing my step the other night?” you ask. 

Before he can answer, you continue. 

“It’s okay if you weren’t, but I twisted my ankle on it the other day, so I need to get it fixed before that happens to someone else. I was thinking maybe I’d just call-”

“No-”

“It’s no big deal if you can’t-”

“No,” Joel cuts you off. He had been biding his time, waiting for the right opportunity to bring it up to you, not realizing that taking said time probably made him look like an asshole. “Don’t call anyone else, I can do it. How about Friday night? Will you be around?” 

“Friday?” you answer, pondering. “Yeah, that works. I have a friend from out of town coming to visit, so I’ll be home early because I’ve gotta pick her up from the airport.” 

“Alright, I’ll try to cut out early, too.”

“And also I can pay-”

“Stop it, I”ve got you, don’t worry,” he waves his hand. 

You smile at Joel. He’s sure it means nothing, but he gets some satisfaction from how sincere it is compared to the one you’d given the guy you had been escorting out of your home. 

He feels himself grinning back, and you open your mouth to speak, but are cut off by the sound of his screen door slamming. Sarah stumbles down the steps, backpack hanging off one shoulder, headphones to her walkman around her ears, holding her bright pink windbreaker in one hand and a book in the other. She looks at Joel, then you, standing in your driveway, and her face lights up as she calls your name. 

“Hey, Sarah,” you wave. 

Sarah opens her mouth to speak, and Joel knows whatever she’s going to say will start a much longer conversation that unfortunately they just don’t have the time for.

“She’s gotta get to school,” Joel tilts his head in the direction of his daughter before she can say anything. “But I’ll get that done Friday.”

“See you then!” You turn on your heel, and he looks away for a second to Sarah before glancing back in your direction, and you’re already gone, the only evidence you were there being your front door slamming shut. 

Joel waits until he and Sarah are in the car on their way to school before he speaks again. 

“She’s never mentioned a boyfriend or anything, has she?”

Sarah doesn’t even look up from her book. “No.”

Joel nods, and it’s quiet for a moment.

He hears Sarah’s book shut. “Why?” she turns to him, and she’s got her eyes narrowed, like she’s trying to figure out what the question really meant. He’s never seen her make that face before, and it’s a little terrifying, because it looks like she could see right through him.

Joel wracks his brain for a good enough excuse. “If she has people over, I don’t want you hangin’ around adults I don’t know.”

That seems to satisfy Sarah, and the skeptical look on her face disappears. If anything, she seems slightly annoyed by the comment, which is definitely preferable. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that because it’s never happened.” Sarah plays with the dials on the radio, changing the station until it lands on one playing The Chicks, her favorite group. She hums along to the song, filling in the gaps whenever the radio cuts out, and looks out the window. 

“Alright.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-March 28th, 2003-

“Oh, I wanna come!” Sarah jumps up from the couch and joins Joel in the entryway. It’s Friday evening, and he’s about to head out the door to your place.

“You’re stayin’ in tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“Well first of all, you’re grounded, in case you don’t remember.”

“You don’t even know what that means, though.”

Joel shakes his head, because she’s right. He’s never had to ground Sarah before, but when he’d gotten a call from her teacher that she had failed her last math quiz, and was close to not passing the class, he figured it was an appropriate punishment. “I’m pretty sure it means you can’t leave the house.”

“But this is barely leaving the h-”

“Second of all,” he cuts her off. “She told me earlier this week she’s got a friend visiting, so it’d be rude to intrude if that’s the case.”

Sarah groans, throws her head back, and falls onto the couch dramatically. “But I’m so bored.”

“You could study. Practice dribbling, clean your room, clean your bathroom-”

“Dad, it’s literally Friday night.”

“And?”

“All that stuff is so boring.”

Joel can’t help but chuckle. “Look, when I get back we can watch a movie. This won’t take long.”

She sits up a little, placated. “Okay, but it’s my turn to pick.”

“Deal. I’ll be home in an hour or so,” he steps out onto the porch. 

There’s a special kind of glow in Texas about an hour before the sun sets. Warm light filters behind the trees, casting the leaves and anything else it catches in a golden halo. Joel takes in the view for a moment as he walks across the street, skipping the rotten step and knocking on your front door. 

You answer it quickly. “Hey, you wanna come in?”

Joel supposes he doesn’t have to, and could just let you know he’s here, stay out on the front porch and just get the job done, but he accepts your invitation anyway.

There’s another woman sitting cross-legged on the couch, two half-full glasses of wine on your coffee table, music playing low on some speakers in the corner. The front windows are open, despite the chill of the evening, and your sheer curtains billow in the breeze. 

“Claire, this is my neighbor, Joel,” you say. “He’s helping me out with the steps. His daughter’s Sarah, the one I was telling you about. ”

“Oh, yeah.” Claire’s face lights up in recognition. “Joel. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he nods.

“Claire’s visiting from New York. We grew up together,” you explain. 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Her and I were roommates at boarding school,” Claire explains, finishing off a glass of wine. “We got into a lot of trouble together.”

“Hmmm, if I recall, it was more like you got me into trouble, but sure,” you say. 

“You were bad, if not worse, than I was.”

Joel smirks, and you turn to him, changing the subject. “She’s jetlagged, so we’re just staying in for the night.”

“But…we’re still getting drunk, obviously.”

“Oh yeah, that too,” you say flatly, although to Joel, you don’t seem drunk at all. Luckily, your friend answers his question with her next sentence.

“This one isn’t very good at keeping up, though,” Claire tilts her head in your direction, then finishes off the glass of wine in her hand.

“You sound like Vincent,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh, how is Vincent?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you cross your arms and look at Joel. “She always had the biggest crush on my brother, and it was dis-gus-ting.”

“To be fair,” Claire clears her throat. “At the time, he was pretty dreamy. And if we’re being honest….he still is…too bad he’s married.”

“Divorced, actually. But still…” You wrinkle your nose. “Gross.”

“Divorced?” Claire sits up, jaw dropping. “When? Why didn’t you tell me? What happened?”

You raise your hands and shake your head, like it’s too much to get into. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it later. Sorry, we’re being rude,” you turn back to Joel. “Can I get you anything? Want some wine?”

“I would, but it doesn’t usually mix well with power tools,” Joel answers. “I should be good, though, I brought everything I need.”

“Great well… I’ll let you get to it, then.” you pad across the floor to return to your friend on the couch. “We’ll be in here if you need anything.”

“Sounds good,” Joel nods at you and your friend before stepping back out onto the porch.

The screen door shuts behind him, and the birds are quieting down for the night. He only has a little bit of sunlight left, but this shouldn’t take him long. Just as he is about to get started, he hears your friend’s voice, muffled, from inside the house. 

“Okay, I thought you were lying because your taste in men is usually questionable, but you’re right, he is really cute.”

“Dude,” you interject, and Joel hears a sound of impact, like a smack on the arm. “Lower your voice the fucking windows are open.” Claire starts giggling, and you continue. “You know you don’t have to say, like, every thought that comes into your head.”

He hears your friend laugh even harder, and eventually you join her. Joel shakes his head, but even after he starts working, can’t keep the grin off his face.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 5th, 2003-

It has been the longest week of your life. Work had been hectic – you’d spent the last five days going to so many meetings and dinners with potential clients that you had almost no time to do your actual job. Plus, your visit from Claire had already wiped out nearly all your energy, since you had spent the whole last weekend showing her around Austin, entertaining.

Normally, on a Saturday like today, you’d do a number of things – the first of which would be to sleep the fuck in. The ideal schedule would go something like this: You’d get out of bed in the early afternoon and immediately order some kind of takeout – most likely pho, or ramen, or some other type of soup. You’d get high, eat the takeout, and then watch TV until you’re tired enough to go back to bed in the early evening. If you’re feeling motivated at all, you might change into a fresh pair of pajamas before you crash again. It would be the ultimate lazy day, and you had desperately wanted it.

However, the past version of yourself had made plans to play tennis in the morning with some friends, and then check out a new breakfast place in the city. Sometimes you hated how optimistic she was about your ability to wake up before 10 a.m. While you weren’t excited to play tennis, you were excited that there was, at some point, going to be food involved. 

So you dragged your ass out of bed, rifled through a box of clothing in your garage (one that you still had yet to unpack) to find a tennis skirt and visor, and then got in your car to go play all before 8 a.m. Then, you’d had your ass handed to you by your friends on the court. It was a little humbling to realize that you weren’t very good at tennis anymore. The last time you’d seriously played was when you were still in school, and you’d originally started because your father had wanted you to be involved in an extracurricular activity. According to him at the time, anything involving the arts – music, dance, drama – didn’t count. You had challenged this idea, and it had escalated to become one of the top ten worst fights you’d ever had with him. After that, you had learned that it was better to just do as you were told. 

You’d joined the tennis team, and started to pick up on how intrigued your father was by the trophies and ribbons you’d bring home when you did well. He started to ask you questions when he saw them, pat you on the head and say things like ‘that’s my girl’. Regardless of whether or not you liked playing, you had finally found a way to earn his attention. So, you got better. One time, he even came to your school to watch one of your matches. Of course, when you lost that one, it all kind of crumbled. But you still stuck to the sport since that’s what all your friends were doing, even if it didn't get you what you wanted. 

On the drive home from your morning out, belly full of breakfast and ready for a nap, thinking of your family brings about a terrifying realization. 

You look at your phone. Shit.

April 5th. 

Immediately, you dial a number on your cell. You’re aware of the dangers of talking while driving but you know if you don’t make this call, you’ll never hear the end of it. The line only rings twice before it’s picked up.

“Hello?” 

“Vincenzo!” you say with your best – but probably horrible – attempt at an Italian accent. 

“Well, well, well….if it isn’t the estranged daughter…” the familiar timbre of your brother's voice answers. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

You roll your eyes. “Well first of all, fuck off…” We're off to a great start. “...and second of all…Happy Birthday.”

You hear your brother’s chuckle on the other end of the line, a noise that you’d been on the wrong side of –  laughing at you, not with you – more than once, but your heart aches a little at the sound of it now. I miss you, you wish you could say, but you keep it to yourself. 

“Thanks, I’m surprised you remembered,” he says, lightly.

“I’ve never forgotten.”

“There was that one year-”

“Oh my god, I was like twelve.”

“You were fourteen.”

“Okay, well, sorry…It’s been over ten years and it hasn’t happened since.”

“It feels like you’ve forgotten more than once, but that might just be because it’s pretty much the only time you ever call me these days,” Vincent says, and if you were with him, in person, you’d be able to tell by the look in his eyes whether or not he was joking. But over a cell, you’re not sure at all. 

“That’s not true,” you say, turning your car into your neighborhood. “But I mean, the phone does work both ways.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you catch something flippant in his tone. 

“Do you want this to be a nice conversation or are you gonna be an asshole?” you ask, maybe a little too matter-of-factly, but at least you can determine whether or not it’ll be a waste of your time to try and be cordial. If he’s in a bad mood, you know it’s pointless.

“Relax,” he says, and you hear a hint of the teenage boy you once knew. “You’re always so ready to argue with me, I’m joking.”

“Very funny,” you say, and try to be nice about it, because deep down, you know Vincent is right. You don’t talk to your brother enough to argue with him when you do speak. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. “So what are you doing on your big day? Anything special?”

“Nothing really special, I worked out, had lunch with a friend, and I think I’m having dinner with Elizabeth tonight.”

“Oh…really? Elizabeth?” At the mention of his soon-to-be ex-wife – or maybe current ex-wife? You’re not sure – you’re surprised.

“Yeah she and I are uh….talking still, I guess. For Ethan, mostly, but…I don’t know…the divorce isn’t finalized, and I think now that I’m seeing a therapist and shit, maybe we can work something out. We’ll see.”

“And do you want to work something out?”

“I mean, she’s only the love of my life so yeah, it’d be great.”

“I think so, too. How is Ethan, by the way?”

“Oh he’s great,” you hear your brother’s smile over the phone. “Just a big ball of energy, and so fucking smart. He told me he misses you the other day.”

Your heart lurches at the mention of your sweet, five-year-old nephew. “You’ll have to tell him I said hi, and that I love him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” he answers. “You know, next weekend I’m having a proper birthday party.  We’re all going to the Hamptons. I could fly you out here, you could tell him in person.”

“I can’t, I got shit to do,” you answer a little too quickly, turning the car into your cul-de-sac.

“What uh, your little corporate gig keeping you busy?”

There’s a subtle dig in there, little. 

“Maybe.”

“I’m telling you, all I have to do is phone a friend, and we’ll find you something here that’ll pay a thousand times better and won’t have you working weekends.”

“I don’t work weekends,” you say, pulling into your driveway.  “And I’m not interested.”

“You like making yourself miserable, don’t you?”

“Vinny,” you say, exasperated, putting your car in park. “I’m happy here.”

“In Texas? I don’t believe it,” he says. “And you know, at this point, you’ve proven whatever you wanted to dad. After everything you’ve done, he probably respects you. Like, you did it. You cut yourself off, you made a name for yourself, you don’t need us anymore. Congratulations, amazing. I get it. But you should come home now.”

“Vincent,” you repeat yourself. “I’m not going back. You know what it was like for me. For you.”

“You’re my fucking family too, you know? You can’t just let him control every decision you make,” he says, and he’s not quite yelling at you, but he is sounding a lot more stern than he was before. “And by the way, it wasn’t so bad. You and I always got along.”

“Even if I move back, things will never be like they were.”

“You don’t know that.” he says it with such a deep sadness in his voice that you want to take back every cruel thing you’d ever said to him – not just from today, from forever. And then he speaks again. “You know, you used to be so sweet when we were kids….I don’t know what happened.”

I do, you think. “I had to look out for myself.”

Before he can respond, you change the subject. “Anyways, you should move out here instead,” it’s only halfway a joke.

“I’m not leaving New York.”

“Well, I’m not leaving Austin.”

“Well…” he says, clicks his tongue. “Then I guess things’ll just stay this way.” 

“I guess so.”

You wish you could offer more. But he has never understood. The silence on the other line is so loud, your ears are ringing.

“Look, I just pulled in my driveway, I gotta get going.”

“Yeah.”

“But have a nice day, okay?” you’ve gotta turn this conversation around because it went so far off the rails. “Tell Elizabeth I say hi, and I hope you do work things out with her because you know I think she’s great. And give Ethan a kiss for me.”

“I know, and I will,” you can see him closing his eyes, fingers pinching between his eyebrows.

“I love you.” 

“Yeah…okay,” he says, like he doesn’t believe you, and it’s a punch to the gut. As usual, you weren’t able to say the right thing. Tears start pricking the back of your eyes, guilt twisting deep in the pit of your stomach.

“Goodbye,” in one swift movement, you end the call and get out of the car, slamming the door shut. You’re sad now, but it’s only a matter of time before you become angry, which is always easier to deal with, so you just gotta suck it up until it passes.

Trying not to be upset is such a high priority that you don’t hear your name being called right away, and when you turn around, it’s too late.

“Hey!” Sarah Miller is skidding to a stop in front of you, wearing boots that look a size too small for her feet, dressed in athletic clothes with her hair pulled back. “My dad says I’m not grounded anymore so I can-” she falters when she sees your face. “Are you okay?” she asks. 

Clearing your throat, you fix your expression and try to shake away the lingering disappointment like dirt off a kitchen rug. “Yeah I’m fine,” you lie. “So does that mean you passed math?”

Since that night you let her stay when she was locked out, you’d seen quite a bit of Sarah. It was a little unconventional, and you probably needed to find friends in the community that were more age appropriate, but you enjoyed her company. She would hang out and do homework at your house while she waited for her dad to get home from work. You had always valued your independence, and told yourself you preferred to be on your own, but whenever she left, your house always felt a little emptier than you remembered. Maybe you needed to get a fish or something, since Martini’s appearances were few and far between. 

“Not yet, but I did get an A on my last test. I hate to say it but my dad was right…studying actually helps.”

“Yeah, that tends to be true,” you say, relieved at how easy the smile comes, and you glance over your shoulder to see Joel standing at the edge of his driveway with his hands on his hips. He looks fucking good, and you’re almost sort of mad about it, or it’s hopefully just the irritation kicking in after the conversation with your brother. 

Does Joel know? He has to. It’s like having whatever the male version of a siren is living across the street from you – working with his hands, being a doting father, and mowing the lawn shirtless when it’s hot out. And apparently this was a record-breakingly hot spring, because you’d seen that more than once. Not that you minded, though it only made you want a closer look. Years ago, you probably would’ve scoffed at what sounded like a suburban mom’s wet dream, but actually experiencing it, you felt differently. There was just something about him. 

You give Joel a wave, and he waves back, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he’s trying to decide if he wants to come over and talk. As usual, he seems like he’s got somewhere to be, but he’s too polite to tell you to fuck off. 

“How have you been? I’ve hardly seen you,” Sarah says. “Did you play tennis today?” she pokes at the racket that’s hung over your shoulder. “Were you serious about teachin’ me to play this summer?”

It’s hard not to be amused at the barrage of requests. You admire her ability to be so enthusiastic, so open, something that most people are unable to do, but for her, is effortless. She’s older than your nephew, but you get the same kind of relief from interacting with both of them. The kids are alright. At least, some of them are. 

“Of course,” you answer, and notice that Joel is slowly and hesitantly making his way up your driveway. It’s upsetting that everytime you run into him, you conveniently look like shit – like last Tuesday when you’d just rolled out of bed and were still in your robe. Or right now, after spending the whole morning chasing after balls on a clay court, scuffed knees and hair slick with sweat. But you suppose that’s sort of what neighbors are for.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you ask Joel. 

“It’s goin’,” you take him in as he gets closer, notice the way the arms of his t-shirt are just a little too tight because of his biceps, and feel like you need to take a cold shower to wash yourself of this morning. “Babygirl, we should probably get going.”

He calls his daughter babygirl? There’s no way he was being serious, that it isn’t some ironic joke, or part of an act. You always assumed that was just something you saw in movies.

“Because I did so well on my test my dad is takin’ me on a hike,” Sarah says, and then her face lights up. “Wait….you should come with us! Dad, can she come?” Sarah whirls around to face her father.

Joel looks down at Sarah, and then up at you, and then at Sarah again. “I mean, that’s fine, but…she might have other things going on.” 

It’s hard to tell if he’s trying to give you an out, or if he’s hinting that you shouldn’t come. And you probably normally wouldn’t want to go, but the alternative is moping around your house and thinking of all the things you could’ve said differently to your brother to ensure the conversation would have gone better than it did. You’re always desperate for a second chance to do things over, and do them right. 

You look between the two of them, back and forth. “I mean I would totally, I just…don’t want to interrupt a father-daughter activity-”

“You aren’t,” Sarah says so quickly that Joel looks offended. “I couldn’t leave the house this week so we’ve been spending too much time together.”

Joel frowns. “That’s rude.”

“What?” she says. “It’s true.”

Joel sighs. “She’s right, though. You wouldn’t be interruptin’.”

“Please?” Sarah begs, and you realize you can’t say no even if you want to. You wonder how Joel was even able to ground her for a week, looking in those big, innocent eyes. 

“Yeah, just…uh, could I put my stuff inside and maybe change?” you ask, gesturing towards the house. 

Joel nods, and Sarah rocks back and forth on her heels. “Yes, yes! Take as long as you need.”

“I’ll be fast,” you assure her, and duck inside. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halfway into the hike with Sarah and Joel, and you’ve decided you’re out of shape. You try to tell yourself there could be another reason you are so out of breath – you already worked out once today while playing tennis. But that doesn’t seem like a good enough excuse. Of course, you’re trying to play it cool, because you’re not about to embarrass yourself. Sarah is entertaining you with all kinds of talk about school, and soccer, and sleepaway camp she gets to go to for two weeks once school's out. And you suppose the pain you’re in right now is also  welcome distraction from thinking about Vincent. 

However, you can’t dip away from the group to rest for a second, because Joel is already trailing behind, and he’d catch on. However, his distance – several paces back from where you and Sarah walk – is not because he’s out of shape. On the contrary, he seems to be putting almost no effort into the steep climb. He’s on his own, head on a swivel, kind of like a brooding security guard, and you wonder if he feels left out. 

You steal a glance over your shoulder to take him in, shrouded by the verdant foliage. He looks at home in this environment, sun-kissed and rugged, a finger hooked behind the strap of a leather bag he carries over one shoulder, his gait measured. Aloof, but there’s a quiet confidence to him that draws you in, causes your stare to linger just a touch too long, so when he turns his head straight, his eyes catch yours. You focus back on the trail ahead. 

He hasn’t said much since you’ve started hiking, or in the car, even. Most men are easy to read, but so far, Joel has kind of stumped you. There were times, during the night that you’d helped him bail his brother Tommy out of jail, that you had thought maybe he was- no. He’d been pretty tense in every other interaction you had, so you still couldn’t decide if he had been flirting with you.

And he was older than you, you were pretty sure. Not so old that it wouldn’t be out of the question for him to be interested, but enough that, depending on the type of person he was, might see you as a little too young for him. And he had a kid, responsibilities. 

You were a-single woman with a high-powered career, one cat and a fish on the way. You slept in on the weekends, refused to learn to cook for one, and got violently stoned on your back porch a minimum of three times a week. In suburban Texas, most of the women your age were long since settled, and you were an outlier. It was fair to imagine that Joel probably didn’t see any real promising future when he looked your way…. or maybe he was more of a one-night stand kind of guy, and didn’t care about that at all. This was not necessarily information you needed – but you wanted it anyway.

Not feeling like an outsider would be one upside of moving back to New York – you could be exactly yourself, and still blend right in. It was one of the parts you missed most, besides Vincent. Your heart sinks, and you realize that the hill you’ve been climbing has flattened out, and so you’re able to think clearly again, which is why you’re thinking of your brother. 

Sarah has pulled away, and is wandering towards a clearing. Your eyes are on her form, bounding up ahead on the pathway, the sunlight peeking through the leaves dancing on her skin, when your foot lands on a loose rock, and slips out from beneath you. 

Please, God, n- You don’t even get the chance to plead yourself out of humiliation, because there’s a steady hand on your hip and your back collides with a broad chest. 

“Gotcha,” Joel’s voice is right in your ear — when did he get that close?  

He’s solid, strong, and for the shortest, sweetest moment, you’re overwhelmed by him – get notes of his bar soap (pine, cedar, mint)  mixed with whatever laundry detergent he used, and just the faintest bit of - Fuck. In one swift movement, he brings you upright like you’d never slipped at all, then pulls back. The skin on your hip smarts even after his hand drops away.

“You alright?” Joel steps beside you, watching Sarah, who stands with her hands on her hips, her back turned to you both.

“Yeah,” you nod. He looks back over at you. “Come on,’ he tilts his head towards his daughter, and you walk beside him to where she’s standing.

The whole hike you’d been so occupied with bullshit. Trying not to think about your brother. Trying not to act too out of breath. Trying to not let Joel catch you staring, although you’d already failed at that. But now, you wish you wouldn’t have been in your head, because what you’d come to see made worrying about all that seem stupid.

Stretched out in front of you was a wide creek with moss-colored water that flowed down over layered slabs of rock, and crashed into the waterfall’s churning basin. The sun hits the mist in just the right light, and casts a series of rainbows midair, which move and shift as you turn your head to study the lush, tree-lined shore across the river. 

You’re standing with one hand on your hip, and out of the corner of your eye Sarah shuffles back a few steps to stand beside you, looping her arm through yours, her cheek on your shoulder while you both enjoy the view. 

“I’m glad you got to see this,” she says, and you can just make it out over the sound of the falls. “Isn’t it pretty?”

“It’s beautiful.”

Joel’s hands land on Sarah’s shoulders as he steps close behind you both. She straightens, leans back against him until he wraps his forearm across the front of her in an easy embrace, and she grabs for his wrist with both of her hands, tucking them beneath her chin. A pang of familiar grief stirs inside you at the sight, and you turn away, back towards the view.

“This is the only time of year it’s worth seeing,'' Joel says to you. “It dries up in the summer.” 

“It’s still pretty in the summer,” Sarah pipes up.

“Not as pretty.”

“Can you get me the water?” she asks. Joel grunts an affirmation and a moment later you hear the sound of a zipper.

When you’ve had a considerable amount of time to contemplate life while looking at the water swirling across the granite, you turn to find Sarah sitting on a rock, struggling to peel an orange, and dropping each tiny piece of skin she can get off into Joel’s begrudgingly outstretched hand.

You use the opportunity to stretch your calves against a nearby tree.

“Have you hiked before?” Sarah asks.

“Here and there,” you say. “But not often.”

“Why not?”

“Well this is basically a workout. I don’t like working out, I’m pretty unathletic.”

You’re surprised when that draws a smile from Joel.

“But you play tennis.”

You shrug. “Eh, kinda.”

“Me and my dad go hiking a lot.”

“That’s sweet,” your eyes flicker from hers to Joel’s, because they are both staring at you, and you’re pretty sure, though it’s hard to tell from this distance, that their eyes are the identical shade of caramel. Sarah finishes peeling her orange and Joel pockets the scraps of skin. She eats a slice before offering you both your own, and you step closer to accept it.

Sarah’s taking her last bite of orange when Joel speaks up. 

“Should we head back?”

Sarah turns to take one last look. It’s mid afternoon, the slant of light from the sun as intense as it can be, and you squint when it reflects back off the water and into your eyes. 

“Yeah, we can,” Sarah decides, and it’s clear that Joel would have stayed there for as long as she wanted. It wasn’t up to him. 

The hike back isn’t nearly as difficult. It’s all downhill, and Joel leads. Sarah stays behind with you, and clings to your arm while she teaches you how to navigate the trail without slipping. Back at the trailhead is one steep step that drops off into a puddle of stagnant water. 

Joel jumps down first, and turns to offer his hand to Sarah, who takes it and leaps lightly, landing on two feet on the other side. You aren’t sure what you’re expecting, but it’s not for Joel to offer you his hand to you as well. But he does.

“Careful,” he murmurs. And of course, you could’ve easily done this yourself, with no help. It’s a two foot drop and an inch of water. But you accept it anyways, putting some of your weight against his hand as you hop down, noticing how he doesn’t waver.

By the time you’re long since settled in the car, pulling into Joel’s driveway, you can feel sleep tugging down your eyelids. A steaming shower and a pair of pajama pants is imminent, and it’s like your body knows. Surely, you will still probably feel guilty about your brother, but you’re convinced that you won’t lose sleep over it, which you consider a win.

Sarah, who insisted that you both sit in the back together on the way home – leaving Joel in the front alone – gives you a quick hug after you’ve gotten out of the car, and then plucks the car keys from her father.

“Sorry, I drank a lot of water and I have to pee!” she says, before jogging up the walkway and unlocking her front door. 

Joel lets out an exasperated sigh, but turns back look at you with startling warmth. 

“Thanks for having me, I really needed that,” you tell him, and you’re not sure why you feel compelled to be honest with him, but continue on. “My brother and I got into it on the phone this morning, so if I didn’t go I probably would’ve spent all afternoon moping in bed.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice soft. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” you say, quickly, brushing it off. “Siblings, you know?”

“Yeah,” he nods, but you can tell he isn’t convinced. “I know.”

“How’s Tommy, by the way?” you ask. “Staying out of trouble, I hope?”

“He is,” Joel answers. “We actually have a big project we might be about to book. Pays well, and will keep us employed for the next year.”

“Oh that’s exciting,” you nod. “So what I’m hearing  is…if my step rots again, you wouldn’t have time to come fix it?”

“No,” Joel chuckles again, and you’re dizzy after hearing it. “I’d make time.”

You take a deep breath. “Good to know,” you shuffle a few steps backwards. “I better get going, though.” He doesn’t answer right away, and just as you’re turning to walk across the street, Joel calls out to you again.

“Hey,” and you pause, facing him again. “I wanted to ask you if…” he hesitates, blinks and shakes his head once before continuing. “If Sarah is coming over too much. If you want, I can tell her to cool it.”

“Are you kidding?” you ask. “I don’t mind at all. She’s great company, really.”

“You sure you’re not just sayin’ that to be nice?”

You sniff, look at the ground, then back up to him. “I’m not actually very nice.”

He studies you. “I’m not sure I believe that.” 

“You hardly know me,” you shrug, and his eyebrows pinch together very briefly before his expression neutralizes. “I’m just saying….if I didn’t like having her around, you would know.”

He bobs his head slowly, and you turn back around to walk to your house, glancing at him from over your shoulder. 

“I’ll see you around.”

- - - - - - - - - -

taglist: @yaskna @venomous-ko @lomljigg @yeehawbitchs @ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done @melancholicmelanin @reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer @superflymaterial @mikkorantanev @zbeez-outlet (i'm sorry if i missed anyone, i didn't tag anyone that didn't explicitly ask!).

part iii

[bradshawsbaby]

If you're still taking those late-night prompts, how about "I'm cold. Cuddle with me" + Rhett because I'm having feelings.

Always having feelings about that cowboy!

One of the worst parts about traveling on the rodeo circuit was the accommodations. You never knew what town you were going to end up passing through, or what crummy motel you’d have to spend the night in. Some were better than others, but tonight, you and Rhett had ended up in a particularly crappy one.

You typically tried to look on the bright side of things—at least you and Rhett were together, and you were getting to watch the love of your life live out his dreams. But the broken radiator and the freezing water in the bathroom were enough to sour your mood, especially after a long and exhausting day at the rodeo grounds.

If you were a bit peeved about the situation, you knew Rhett was downright grumpy. He’d had a good ride today, but he’d tweaked a nerve in his shoulder and you knew all he wanted was a hot shower to relax and unwind.

“Stupid shithole,” he’d muttered in frustration when you returned to the motel and were met with ice water instead.

He was taking a quick shower now, trying to wash away the dirt and grime from the day, while you tried to make the room a little bit more comfortable. With no heat, you’d donned a pair of thick socks, sweatpants, a long-sleeve shirt, and one of Rhett’s hoodies to try to keep warm, managing to find an extra blanket in the closet and throwing it onto the bed. You fluffed the pillows as best you could, trying to make it as cozy as possible for when Rhett came out of the bathroom.

Just as you were settling down under the covers, the bathroom door opened and Rhett stepped out with a white towel slung low around his waist. Your mouth watered at the sight. But his handsome face was twisted into a scowl as he stomped over to his travel bag.

“Is a little hot water after a long damn day too much to ask for?” he grumbled, digging through his things for a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. Normally he liked to sleep with minimal clothing, or none at all, but you could see he was still visibly shaking from his frigid shower.

You bit your lower lip, leaning back against the headboard. “I know, but at least we’ll be checked out of here tomorrow,” you offered, trying to find a silver lining.

“Not fast enough,” Rhett grunted, dropping his towel and quickly getting dressed.

You knew he was just exhausted and in pain, and that was what was making him so cranky. So you held out a hand to him, your voice calm as you said, “I’m cold. Cuddle with me.”

If you had tried to offer to take care of him when he was in a mood like this, he would have just gotten more snappish, but when you turned the tables and made it seem like you needed him, he was quick to soften and come crawling into bed beside you.

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he murmured, wrapping you in his arms and holding you against his chest. “I wish I could have taken you someplace better than this,” he said with a frown, glancing around your more than modest lodgings.

“Shh, I don’t care about that,” you assured him, draping yourself across his chest. “Just want to be with you.”

He chuckled quietly under his breath, running his fingers through your hair as your eyes grew heavier and heavier.

“I’m really glad you’re here with me,” he whispered against the top of your head, dropping a kiss on it. “It means the world to me, havin’ you in my corner.”

You smiled, cuddling closer to him. “I love you, Rhett.”

“I love you, too, baby. Now let’s get some sleep.”

late night prompts

[wonjns]

particular — i.cy

pairing. im changkyun x male reader

genre. smut

summary. another long day of work leads to a horny mood, thankfully you have a (slightly odd but extremely sexy) boyfriend who's always willing to help you out.

includes. car sex, semi-public sex, slight voyeurism, masturbation, cum eating, unprotected sex ( dont irl !! )

WC. 1.7k

°A/N. . . ok this is literally so random it was just an old draft i started literally last year ?? but i just had to finish it bc wow i forgot how much i love chankgyun and i hope u guys like this !!

everybody usually labeled your boyfriend as a bit of a freak, but you just liked to think of him as selective about what he liked when it came to sex.

despite his horny tendencies, changkyun had never done anything outlandish or unheard of before with you - shit, he was hardly even open to trying new things. he simply knew what he liked, despite how specific some of his turn ons were. you understood that, and he always appreciated how open you were to his desires.

just like now, as you sat in the passenger seat of his car – your pants long discarded as you palmed your exposed member while he watched you with intense eyes.

you woke up in an uncharacteristically needy mood today, dropping hints as soon as he picked you up from your barista job. changkyun could feel the desire radiating off of you in waves the minute you laid your eyes on him, the way his fitted black gym shirt up clung to his chiseled torso stirring a fire in your gut. it was unlike you, but you practically begged to have him before he could fully drive down the street. and who would he be to tell his favorite boy no in that moment?

he just wanted you to do a thing or two for him first.

for some reason, changkyun loved to fuck you after seeing you reach your climax first. something about how spent you would be just ignited him in a blaze, pounding into you extra passionately afterwards... every single time. 

so you didn’t hesitate for a second when he asked to see you pleasure yourself until your first orgasm, then he would touch you. you obliged, immediately throwing your head against the seat rest from a couple strokes to your cock. 

but before you knew it, you had been at it for 10 minutes, unable to get yourself climaxing despite your needy state. your hands simply never felt quite the same as changkyuns larger, warmer, and much more experienced ones. your wrist was starting to cramp after putting in so much effort to no avail, groaning out of frustration when you saw changkyun begin to palm himself over his gym shorts.

you were sickeningly turned on at how aroused he was getting at your frustration. you had always needed his help with nearly everything, especially when it came to sex, so you were always so pliant and obedient — and fuck did it turn him on.

“kyun, i need you so bad, please.” you whined, feeling overwhelmed with the hunger that he stared at you with as you played with your throbbing length.

changkgun’s jaw clenched for a second before he slowly licked his bottom lip, watching your hands run along your cock. he didn’t even want to blink and risk missing a second of the beautiful sight before him.

“you’re doing good, baby, keep going.” he sternly encouraged, voice so deep it caused you to whimper with more want. his eyes shot up to yours for a second, darker than ever. “are you close?”

“mm mm,” you mewled in response, gaze dropping to his erect nipples poking through his dry-fit shirt. you stroked yourself deeper, remembering what he looked like underneath the thin fabric. “let see your abs, please.”

the ever-so-cocky grin that you were used to grew across changkyuns face. and as annoying as it was, you fucking loved it.

he’d been working out so much at home lately, and it showed more as the days went on. you would always watch in perverted silence, eyes fixated on his back muscles as he did pull ups on your bedroom doorframe. the way his round shoulders were forming, tan thighs growing more muscular, and of course that torso being shaped by the gods - there was hardly a time that he’d be doing his sit ups in the living room that wouldn’t end in you two getting some extra cardio in on the couch after.

changkyun complied to your request all too easily, reaching down to drag the hem of the shirt slowly upwards. the material slid up and bunched around his broad chest, bronze chiseled abs glaring right back at you.

he must’ve just finished working out before picking you up from work, as there was still a thin sheen of sweat reflecting off the grooves of his muscles. you just wanted to cum all over them right then and there, and to lick it off after without a care in the world.

and that was all it took. the thought alone activated a long whine out of you as you squirted all over yourself, ropes of your white essence shooting up onto your stomach and thankfully missing your uniform shirt by a smidge.

you felt a little out of breath already, but the marveling in changkyun’s eyes gave you all the boost you needed. you didn’t bother discarding your shirt as you scrambled into his lap, back accidentally honking the horn in the process. you’d didnt give a damn.

“there, will you kiss me now?” your voice sounding much more desperate than you wanted it to.

changkyun offered you another smirk before slightly lifting your shirt and scooping some of your arousal off your stomach with two fingers. you didn’t need any instruction as you opened your mouth, excitement stirring in your bones.

your boyfriend’s eyes struck in a trance as he rubbed his fingers along your tongue, spreading your salty love liquids around to his liking. his free hand held you firmly in place by your neck. you took the opportunity to suck on his digits for just a moment before he pulled them away.

your tongue protruded out to show chankgyun his work, prompting a deep groan out of him.

“that’s my boy…” he finally mumbled before surging forward, finally soothing your aching lips with his own.

the kiss was deep, full of hunger as changkyun wasted no time in slipping his tongue in to mingle with yours. he took his time tasting you, collecting the smeared essence off your tongue to take for himself. he was so noisy today, as another one of his moans shook you to your core, and you were thankful to be perched on his lap... otherwise your knees would’ve given out immediately.

you were growing drunk on his sloppy open mouthed kisses, feeling along those godly abs before you forced yourself to pull away - unable to hold in your final request any longer.

“changkyun,” you huffed, “please fuck me.”

the dark haired man laughed at your already desperate state, warm hands encasing both sides of your hips securely as he looked you up and down.

“i don’t know, prince, right here and now? you’re already so sensitive, i’m not sure if you could handle it.” he mocked, experimentally rolling his hips up into you.

the thin material of his workout shorts boldly exposed how rock hard his bulge was already. he felt so, so big and it sent your mind reeling. your eyes rolled back when you rocked your hips down into him in response, clutching his broad shoulders.

“let me try.” you cried out, reconnecting your lips before he could form a reply.

after the two of you shared a hot, needy make out session for a couple minutes, changkyun skillfully removed both of your clothes before you could notice.

his teeth ran teasingly along the column of your neck before he passionately sucked on your adams apple, flipping you over and lowering the seat back. you moaned as you ran your hands down the expanse of his exposed melanated back, the valleys of his toned muscles sending you into a haze.

chankgyun made sure to leave an array of pretty little marks all over your neck before finally ridding himself of his underwear and fishing the small bottle of lube out from the center consul.

he laughed to himself, realizing that normal couples probably wouldn't keep something so vulgar brazenly in their car. but the man learned quickly that he had done it to himself; after corrupting you for the first time, you had become such an insatiable little thing.

when both you and he were finally prepped, he teasingly prodded his thick head against your entrance.

“i’m going in, baby boy. hold on tight.” he spoke.

his teasing actions caused you to already clench around nothing, but you tried to will yourself to relax. he slowly pushed in, and you couldn't even attempt holding your noises in. not like he would want you to anyways.

changkyun's ego would always skyrocket every time he heard how good he made you feel. his favorite would be times just like this, when you were in your most fucked out state just babbling over how much you loved him and his huge, skillful dick.

you clung to your boyfriend tighter as he ground his hips into you rhythmically, taking you to the stars and back right there in his driver's seat.

it didn't take much for you to announce your second orgasm, the sensation hurdling towards you as changkyun relentlessly pounded into you with a starved passion.

when the blissful relief washed over you, once again coming all over you and changkyun's stomach, he couldn't even warn you of his own climax as the fluttering of your walls began milking him dry as well. he wanted to bite down on your collarbone but refused to look away at how cute your scrunched up face looked, loving that he was the reason for your ecstacy.

changkyun tried to still his head from dizzying, groaning as he watched his own come begin leaking down your leg. he went to grab napkins from his consul, but you stopped him immediately, pulling him back on top of you for one more deep kiss.

you just wanted the both of you to rest in that moment, so fucked out that you didn't feel like moving despite the stickiness forming between the both of you.

your boyfriend chuckled as he lowered himself to your ear, pecking your cheeks a couple times.

"ok, 5 minutes babe. but then we have to get out of this parking lot, your job has cameras."

© 𝐟𝐥𝐰𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐢 — all rights reserved

[wongyuseokie]

Sweetest Kiss | x.m.h

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day, and you and your boyfriend are determined to make it the best one ever, and a little edible lingerie never hurt anyone in the process. ☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕ smut | ♥ completed works

Word Count: 1632 words

Pairings: Xu Minghao x Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AUs: Established Relationship. Boyfriend! Minghao. FLUFFY FLUFF, and smut, plot with smut. Content Warnings: Mentions of food, smut, tooth-rotting fluff. Smut Warnings: Food Play (it's mild, she wears edible lingerie), kissing, breast play, unprotected sex (even if it's Valentine's Day, don't behave like this). Vanilla sex. Oral sex (f receiving), squirting, use of the pet name baby. Overstimulation, fingering. Authors Note: This is written for the Cupid For You Fic Exchange hosted by @svthub. Happy Valentine's my lovely @sluttyminghao / @myungho I hope you enjoy this! It's been a pleasure being your Valentine 💘 Authors Note 2: Thank you to my lovely @wooahaeproductions for beta'ing this for me so quickly! I love you sm 💘💘 Permanent Taglist: @aaniag Cross Posted to AO3 © wongyuseokie 2024. All rights reserved.

You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Minghao holding a tray filled with a delicious breakfast. Heart-shaped pancakes, fresh strawberries, and a steaming cup of your favourite coffee were on the tray.

“For my favourite person,” he said, placing the tray on your lap.

You looked at him, feeling a rush of warmth in your heart. “Minghao, you didn’t have to do all this.”

“But I wanted to,” he replied, sitting beside you on the bed. “It’s Valentine’s Day, and I wanted to start your day with a little extra love.”

You couldn’t help but be touched by his sweet gesture as you enjoyed the delicious breakfast he had prepared. 

The air was filled with a hint of excitement as you planned a surprise for Minghao. With a mischievous smile, you turned to him and said. “Hey Hao, could you momentarily wait for me in the living room? I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

Minghao raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “A surprise? What is it?”

You chuckled, resisting the urge to spill the secret. “Patience, my love. Just wait in the living room, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

He nodded, a playful grin on his face. “Alright, but you better not keep me waiting too long.”

Minghao kissed your forehead and slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and you took the opportunity to make your way to stand in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom. 

You took a deep breath and disrobed yourself, revealing a lingerie set made entirely from candy. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement and nervousness all at once. Today is a special day, and you want everything to be perfect.

You glanced down at the outfit you carefully chose for this occasion. You stepped closer to the mirror, ensuring every strand of your hair was in place. 

With a final glance in the mirror, you grabbed your phone and left your bedroom. You go to the living room, where your boyfriend awaits you. You can hear music from the living room and know he is listening to your favourite playlist.

With the surprise set, you went to the living room, your heart fluttering with anticipation. As you entered, Minghao looked up from the couch, his eyes widening with curiosity.

Minghao’s eyes grew even bigger as he saw you enter the living room, wearing only edible lingerie made from candy. You could see the desire in his eyes as he took in your appearance. You couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious, but Minghao’s admiring gaze made you feel confident.

“Valentine’s chocolate is so overpriced, I got us edible lingerie instead,” you said with a mischievous smile, walking towards him slowly.

Minghao couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you got closer. He ran his hands over your body, feeling the smooth texture of the candy lingerie against your skin. He couldn’t resist the temptation and leaned in to taste a piece of the candy on your shoulder. The sweet taste of the candy mixed with your skin was a sensation he couldn’t get enough of.

You let out a soft moan as Minghao’s lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of you. The candy lingerie made it even more exciting as he nibbled on the pieces, leaving marks on your skin.

You could feel yourself getting more and more turned on as Minghao’s hands travelled down to your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips met yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands continued to roam over your body.

The candy lingerie melted against your skin, sticking to your body. But you didn’t care. The sensation of Minghao’s hands and lips on your skin was too intoxicating. You could feel yourself getting wetter with each passing moment.

Minghao’s hands made their way down to your thighs, pulling you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. He carried you to the bed, laying you down gently. He continued to kiss and nibble on your skin, making you moan in pleasure.

Minghao hovered above you and captured your lips in a sweet kiss and then slowly moved them down your body as he placed his plush lips on your breast; as he reached your breasts, he took a piece of the candy lingerie in his mouth, sucking on it gently. His warm mouth and the sweet taste of the candy drove you wild. As you arched your back, pressing your body closer to his, he sucked and nibbled at your hardened nipples while his other hand massaged your other breast. 

Minghao then pushed your thighs apart and laid down between them, his lips kissing your inner thighs until his mouth finally landed on your cunt. Minghao groaned softly when he tasted you. He moaned at how wet you were. Minghao threw your legs over his shoulders and secured his plump lips to your clit.

“Oh my god,” you gasped at the pleasure. He was incredible, but everything felt so unbelievable. You failed to hold your moans as he sucked on your clit. His hands moved to interlock at your waist as he kept sucking your clit.

You felt your eyes roll back as your orgasm approached you, “Hao,” you gasped, and Minghao could tell you were close, and he simply continued to suck your clit until you started to shake in his grip. Minghao’s mouth never left your clit as you came.

You whimpered as his touch pushed you to the brink of overstimulation, but you didn’t care. It felt too good. Minghao slowly moved his mouth away from your clit, smiling when he saw how swollen and wet your cunt was. He could see it throbbing and pulsating with aftershocks of pleasure.

“Hao, fuck,” you whispered as he pushed two fingers into you. Minghao stood up slightly as he pushed his middle and ring finger into your cunt and hooked them there.

“Scream for me,” Minghao said as he started to vigorously pump his fingers in and out of your cunt. He used his other hand to press down your pubic bone, holding you still as you began to thrash about.

“Do you hear how wet you are?” Minghao asked as he kept fingering you. You nodded, whimpering, fisting the sheets between your hands and letting out a scream as you came hard.

“Hao, I can’t,” You whimpered when you noticed that he hadn’t stopped his movements, “yes, you can. I know you can,” Minghao said as he repeated his actions, this time making you squirt all over his hands.

“I love it when you squirt, baby,” Minghao praised, making your eyes widen.

“Hao, I,” you babbled, and Minghao smiled as he pulled you into his arms.

“Please fuck me,” you begged, and Minghao smiled at you as he got onto his knees and positioned himself between you.

“Fucking hell, you’re so big,” you mewled as you took in his impressive length. Minghao leaned forward to kiss your forehead; he then spread your legs and wrapped them around his waist, and then ran his cock against your folds, choosing to run it over your clit several times.

Minghao took a deep breath as he placed the head of his cock at your entrance.

“Are you ready, baby?” Minghao asked.

“Yes,” you breathed out, and Minghao slowly pushed his length inside you, making you whimper as he stretched you out. 

Minghao inched himself inside you until he was fully sheathed inside your tight cunt.

“Fuck Y/N, baby, you’re so fucking tight, so fucking good,” Minghao praised.

Minghao started to thrust into you with just the right amount of pressure and force. He trailed his fingers to your clit and rubbed. Your legs shook as your second orgasm washed over you, this time more intense. Minghao came seconds after as your cunt clenched around him.

He gently pulled out of you, leaned down and gently placed his lips at your entrance, lapping at your combined arousal, licking you clean, making you cum for the third time. Minghao moved up your body, kissed you softly and laid down next to you.

As you both lay there, catching your breath, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for this unique and unforgettable Valentine’s Day. The edible lingerie may have been a fun and playful idea, but the love and passion between you and Minghao made it truly special. You couldn’t wait to see what other surprises he had for you.

“Hao, today was perfect,” you whispered, looking up at him.

He smiled, his eyes filled with love. “You deserve nothing but the best, my love.”

As the evening settled in, you and Minghao found yourselves cosied up on the couch, surrounded by the soft glow of fairy lights. The room was filled with a warm ambience, creating the perfect atmosphere for a heartfelt moment.

Minghao looked at you, his eyes filled with playfulness and sincerity. With a gentle smile, he took a deep breath, his cheeks tinged with a subtle blush.

“This might sound cheesy,” he began, his gaze never leaving yours, “but will you be my Valentine?”

A soft gasp escaped your lips, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the adorable expression on his face. Minghao’s earnestness melted your heart, and you felt warmth wash over you.

“Of course,” you replied, your voice filled with affection. “I’d love to be your Valentine.”

Minghao’s face lit up joyfully, and he kissed your forehead sweetly. As you snuggled closer, you couldn’t help but savour the moment’s sweetness, appreciating the simplicity and genuine connection that made your relationship with Minghao special.

[justabigassnerd]

Making You Proud

Pairing - Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x daughter!reader

Word count - 6,671

Warnings - major character deaths, grief, angst, mentions of being shot down, funerals, just a whole lot of sadness okay? bit of fluff at the end

Summary - you lose the one person you thought you'd never lose and have a hard time coping

A/N - hey y'all it's time for a new fic isn't it? this was an anon request that I absolutely loved like I read it and was like 'this is the most angsty thing I've ever read... I love it!' so I really hope I've done the idea justice. I won't ramble but as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

Growing up, it had just been you and your dad against the world. Your mother hadn’t wanted a baby and so handed you straight over to Maverick almost the second you were born and forfeited any parental rights. You loved your dad; he was the best dad he could possibly be for you. He loved and protected you unconditionally. He also brought his best friend and RIO Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw into your small family along with his wife, Carole and son Bradley who was but a year older than you.

When you were little, you, your dad, Goose and his family all relocated to Miramar after your dad and Goose’s training at Top Gun. The two men were offered permanent positions as instructors at the highly regarded Navy school. They accepted, mostly so they’d have a more permanent place to call home but insisted that they still got to go on occasional deployments since their love for aviation was too much to consider giving it up. So you grew up in Miramar, with Bradley as your best friend and a loving group of people surrounding you, especially with the inclusion of your dad’s Top Gun classmates, Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky and Ron ‘Slider’ Kerner.

Not long after you turned eighteen, your dad and Goose were given a new deployment, according to the brief it wasn’t going to be any longer than a couple of months and with you due to go off to college just after Maverick’s return he was even more determined to get back on time. With you being eighteen, and Carole just down the road if you needed her, Maverick was fully comfortable leaving you in charge of the house while he was gone. He stocked up the fridge before he left and made sure to leave you some extra money for the next food shops you need to do.

“Alright squirt. I’ll see you in a couple of months.” Maverick said with his ever confident smile as you stood on the pier along with all the other families bidding goodbye to their loved ones.

“You’ll be back in time to help me move into college, right?” You ask looking up at your dad as he softens.

“y/n, nothing is going to stop me from being there. I’ll fly back from the carrier if I have to.” Maverick promises, bringing you into a gentle hug and rubbing a hand up and down your back. When you’re released from the hug you move to hug Goose goodbye, throwing your arms around him as Carole and Bradley move to say goodbye to Maverick.

“You’ll look after him for me, won’t you?” You quietly ask Goose, looking up at him as he nods.

“Been doing it for this long and I don’t plan on stopping.” Goose assures, squeezing you in the hug a little before releasing you. You hear the call for all the Navy personnel to begin boarding the carrier and look at your dad who smiles.

“That’s us.” He says, glancing over at Goose who nods, both men picking up their bags and turning to head over to board the carrier.

“Dad, wait!” You call out, rushing over to your dad as he turns back to face you before hugging him tightly, eliciting a small ‘oof’ from him upon impact. Maverick, of course, did not hesitate to hug back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as well.

“I love you.” You whisper, hugging him a little tighter.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Maverick replies, a smile on his face as he presses one last kiss to the top of your head before releasing you to join Goose and board the carrier. After keeping you dad in your line of sight until he disappeared into the aircraft carrier, you watched as the carrier pulled out into the ocean and began its journey across the seas. When the families began to disperse, you turned to face Carole and Bradley.

“I say we get some ice cream. On me.” Bradley says with a grin, looking from you to Carole as you roll your eyes jokingly. Getting ice cream after seeing your dad and Goose go out on a deployment became a tradition when you and Bradley were young, and you never wanted to let it go.

“Oh the ice creams are on him, Carole! Is this part of becoming a fancy college kid? Being able to afford ice creams now.” You joke as you follow Bradley and Carole to Goose’s bright blue Bronco. Your words caused a light laugh from Carole while Bradley laughed sarcastically. Bradley had just finished his first year at college and was back home for the summer, he had wanted to join the Navy straight out of high school, but Carole and Goose had urged him to try college first, to see if he finds something he likes more and to just get a degree under his belt in case after he graduates, he can’t pursue a career in the Navy.

“Just remember, you’ll be a fancy college kid in a couple of months.” Bradley grins as he ruffles at your hair, laughing as you swat at his hand, laughing yourself. The three of you climb into the Bronco and Bradley drives to the ice cream parlour you had frequented in your youth.

“How are you feeling about college, sweetie?” Carole asks, her ever soft smile on her face as you eat a spoonful of the small tub of the ice cream.

“A bit nervous. I’m going to be so far away from here. It’ll be weird not seeing everyone.” You confess, glancing down at the table, eyes fixed on a stain that clearly no amount of cleaning would get out.

“You’ll be okay, sweetie. You’ll be able to visit, or we’ll come and visit you. Either way you’ll get to see us. You’ll end up having so much fun anyway.” Carole says, smiling as you nod lightly at her words.

“Trust me, you’ll have a great time. You’ll make so many new friends as well. As long as none of them replace me.” Bradley says, sending you a wink from across the table as you let out a soft laugh.

“I promise none of my new college friends will replace you if you promise none of your college friends can replace me.” You bargain, getting a nod from Bradley instantly as he holds out a hand to shake on a deal.

“Seems we have a deal. None of my friends could hold a candle to you anyway.” Bradley says, smiling at you as you smile back. After finishing your ice creams, you spend the rest of the day spending time with Carole and Bradley before heading home in the evening to get some sleep.

Over the weeks your dad was away, you spent time with Bradley and Carole, as well as spending some time with some of your school friends to make some memories before you all head off to different colleges. You didn’t get much communication with your dad, only getting rare phone calls when he was granted one. But you had been counting down the days on the calendar that sat proudly on the kitchen wall, you’d been crossing off the days as they passed as they inched closer to the day that had ‘DAD HOME’ in bright red letters.

Four days before your dad was due to come home, you received a knock on the door. Thinking it was Bradley, Carole, or one of your friends you turned the tv off and went to the door. However, when you opened the door, you were greeted by two men in Navy uniform, both with solemn expressions on their faces. The smile you had on your face dropped the moment you registered who was stood in front of you. You were staring at Viper and Jester, your dad’s old Top Gun instructors.

“Please tell me he’s just in hospital.” Your voice came out as nothing more than a whisper as you looked up at the two men, eyes quickly becoming cloudy with tears before you blinked them away rapidly, determined not to cry yet.

“May we come in?” Jester asked, watching carefully as you nod, stepping aside and holding the door open wider so the two men can enter before closing the door behind them and leading them into the living room where they urge you to take a seat on the armchair while they perch on the sofa.

“We regret to inform you that your father, Lieutenant Commander Pete Mitchell, was killed in action earlier this morning.” Viper says solemnly, heart breaking as he watches your eyes become teary, bottom lip quickly being clamped down on so it doesn’t wobble. Viper had flown alongside your grandfather in the Vietnam war and saw him get shot down and now he had to report of Pete Mitchell’s death to his daughter.

“How?” Was all you managed to get out as tears begin dribbling down your cheeks and your arms wind around your middle as if you were shielding yourself from further harm.

“They say the bandit came out of nowhere. Your dad was scouting ahead, checking for anything that may come the carrier’s way. Either Goose or Maverick must’ve only spotted it moments before it struck because I was told your father attempted to report something in before his signal cut off. Chipper couldn’t get there in time to save them. By the time he shot the enemy down…” Viper couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence, from what he had been told, the image alone of the jet plummeting into the sea in a fiery blaze was too much for even him to handle, let alone Maverick’s eighteen year old daughter.

“Does that mean that Goose is-” A sob cut you off before you could even finish the sentence you were dreading to ask. After wiping your eyes fiercely with the back of your hand you look back at the men and see Jester nod.

“It happened too fast, neither man made it out. There will be an attempt to recover the bodies but we’re trying not to get too hopeful.” Jester says carefully, watching you carefully as more tears work their way down your cheeks, your eyes squeezing shut momentarily to free the tears that are stuck.

“The Navy will take care of any funeral arrangements and are willing to offer you as much support as you need. You can come by whenever if you’d like to clear your dad’s belongings out or if you’d rather someone else can do it and bring them here.” Viper continues, wanting to make sure you don’t feel like you have too much pressure to figure everything out alone. When he saw Maverick’s next of kin list consisting of only your name, he felt awful. He thought to himself that no kid deserves to go through all this alone. You merely nodded at Viper’s words, unable to form any kind of response.

“Do you have anyone who could come over and be with you right now?” Jester asks cautiously, neither man wanted to leave you alone after receiving news this devastating and wanted to get someone to come and be with you for a while. You didn’t respond to Jester’s words, just silently sobbing and hugging yourself. You couldn’t even bring yourself to begin to think of someone who might want to check in on you. Jester and Viper exchanged a worried look when you couldn’t respond, and they started thinking of anyone who may be able to sit with you and check in on you until two people come to mind.

“What about Iceman and Slider? I know your dad was close with Iceman.” Viper then offers, watching you carefully as you give them the slightest nod, giving Jester the ‘okay’ he needed to find the phone and call Iceman’s number. It broke Jester’s heart to stand near the calendar as he dialled the number, noticing the bright red writing on the date four days from now. His heart broke further when his eyes drifted to a day less than a week after Maverick was due to return with, ‘y/n moves into college!’ written undeniably in Maverick’s handwriting. Jester was suddenly shaken out of his thoughts when he heard the voice of Iceman on the other end of the phone and asked him to come over as quickly as he can, and to bring Slider with him.

In the time it took for Iceman and Slider to come over, you excused yourself to go upstairs to the bathroom and to have a bit of privacy. After splashing your face repeatedly and quickly realising it wasn’t going to help the way you were expecting it to, you decided to slink into your dad’s empty bedroom to let out more tears in private.

When Iceman and Slider got to the house, they had been anticipating seeing Jester at the house but seeing Viper as well, both men donning their uniform, set off warning bells in both Iceman and Slider’s heads. The two entered the house and listened carefully as Viper and Jester explained everything about the accident and the deaths of both Maverick and Goose. Iceman and Slider felt their hearts drop at the news.

“Where’s y/n?” Was the first thing Iceman could muster the courage to say, eyes darting around the room in search of you.

“She went upstairs to the bathroom not long before you two arrived.” Viper says, watching as both Iceman and Slider’s eye’s drift to the hallway where the stairs are.

“Can we check on her?” Slider asks, glancing back at his superiors who nod.

“We’ll leave her in your care for now. We called you both over so she wouldn’t be alone. Keep an eye on her and if we can help in any way, let us know.” Jester then says, both he and Viper making their way over to the door while Iceman and Slider follow them, seeing them off before heading upstairs in search of you. Walking past Maverick’s room, both men paused outside the door when they heard the sound of muffled sobs coming from the other side of the door. Slider gently pushed the door open to reveal you curled up on Maverick’s bed, curled into his pillow as you sobbed into it. Both men exchanged a brief worried glance before entering the room. Both of them perched on the other side of Maverick’s bed gaining your attention the slightest amount as you glanced at them out of the corner of your eye before burying your face further into the pillow, inhaling the faint scent of your dad’s cologne that still clung to the pillow.

“You should go and check on Carole and Bradley.” Was the first thing you said, voice muffled by the pillow and thick with tears, but they heard you regardless.

“No, we’re here to check on you. We don’t want you to be alone right now.” Slider says, shaking his head at your words the moment they left your mouth.

“We’re going to help you through this, okay? You’re not alone.” Iceman said softly, hand reaching to rest on your shoulder as his thumb began to rub soothing circles on your shoulder. Inside, Iceman was screaming. He was having to comfort the daughter of the man he had secretly harboured feelings for, since the moment he saw Maverick in the bar before training officially began. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to be comforting a grieving daughter. He was supposed to be watching Maverick drive with you to your college ready for move in day. He was supposed to finally get the guts to confess how he had really felt after all these years.

“How am I supposed to keep going without him?” You question, another wave of sobs washing over you as Iceman continues to smooth his thumb over your shoulder.

“We’ll help you. You don’t have to be alone.” Slider repeats what Iceman had said just moments prior, doing his best to support you.

You continued to sob and didn’t speak another word to the pilot and RIO duo. You sobbed and sobbed until you cried yourself to sleep, still clinging to Maverick’s pillow. When they had noticed that you had fallen asleep, they exchanged another worried look before Iceman took a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m going to stay. I can’t leave her alone right now. You can head home.” Iceman says, speaking soft enough to not disturb you. Slider nodded lightly, both men standing as Slider grabbed the blanket that lay folded at the end of the bed and carefully draped it over you before the two left the room, heading downstairs and congregating by the front door.

“If you need any help or anything, call me.” Slider says, attempting a gentle smile for his friend but he was sure Iceman could see right through it.

“I will.” Iceman says, patting his friend on the shoulder and watching him leave the house. The second the door closed, Iceman let out a small sigh, eyes drifting back to the stairs before heading into the living room.

When you woke up, at first you were confused as to why you were in your dad’s room but when the memories of a few hours prior returned you were once again holding back sobs, wiping the tear stains from earlier off your cheeks. As you wiped your cheeks, you heard birds singing from their tree branches and you wanted nothing more for them to shut up. How could they be so cheerful when you had just lost the most important person in your life? It was the cruellest irony to have the day be so sunny and cheerful when you had just learnt of this irreplaceable loss.

When your stomach grumbled, giving away your hunger, you debated not even getting up at all. You wanted to just wither away in bed and never see the light of day ever again. Just as you were in the motion of tugging the blanket over your head, Iceman gently pushed the door open, a tray of food in hand.

“y/n/n, I brought you up something to eat, kid.” Iceman says gently, approaching the bedside and setting the tray down on the cleanest of the two beside tables. Why Maverick needed two bedside tables when the room was only occupied by one person, Iceman would never understand.

“’M not hungry, Ice.” You mumble from beneath the blanket, making Iceman sigh lightly and perch on the bed once more.

“I think you should eat something, even if it’s a little.” Iceman gently encourages, watching as you begin to poke your head out of the blanket, looking over at the pilot who offers you a small smile to encourage you out further, like you were a cat he was trying to win over. Before you could reply, your stomach rumbled angrily, giving away your desire for food and Iceman just handed the food over with a raised eyebrow. He watched you like a hawk, making sure you ate.

“I know this is probably not what you want to hear right now but we should probably think about where you’re going to live.” Iceman starts, trying his best to approach the subject. He knew it was better to talk about it now rather than later.

“Where I’m going to live? Here. Dad bought the house if there’s a chance, I get the house I’m keeping it.” You state as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

“y/n, you’re going to college in a couple of weeks. Paying for this house would probably be a bit above your pay grade right now. If your dad left the house in your name maybe you could rent the house out to people until you’ve finished college and in a good enough financial place to afford living there. In your breaks from college you can always come to mine if you want. My door will always be open to you.” Iceman says, and deep down you knew he was being logical, but you didn’t want any help. You were sure you’d be able to get through this without the help of Iceman.

“Ice, I’ll figure it out. You don’t need to do this.” There was a slight bite behind your words as you glared over at Iceman.

“But you don’t have to be alone. We want to help you.” Iceman tries to get through to you, not wanting you to feel like you had to do everything alone.

“I’ll be fine Ice. You can go now. Go and check on Carole and Bradley.” You, however, were sticking to your guns and weren’t backing down. Iceman knew you weren’t intentionally being mean. You were going through a lot right now and Iceman was sure he had unintentionally pressed you a bit more than he expected. Respecting your request, Iceman stood from the bed and glanced over his shoulder at you.

“If you need me, I’m just a phone call away.” He says softly before exiting the room, making his way downstairs and leaving the house.

A week later, you were burying an empty casket for your dad. Any attempts to recover Maverick and Goose’s bodies were unsuccessful so you were forced to bury an empty casket. A bunch of Navy personnel had showed up to the funeral, wanting to honour your father. It killed you to see Iceman punch his wingman’s wings into the casket. But the pain was made ten times worse when you were handed a folded flag with a copy of your dad’s dog tags on top. Your dad had given his life for the Navy, and all you got back was a flag. You had slipped the dog tags on as soon as you could. And you let out every tear you had attempted to hold back when you saw the fighter jets flying over in missing man formation. Every step of the funeral was proving to you more and more that you weren’t going to see your dad ever again.

After the funeral, as people began to disperse, most of them made the effort to share their condolences for your loss before moving on. As you glanced around the large military graveyard, you caught sight of Bradley with his arm wound tightly around Carole as she sobbed into his shoulder. You’d seen them at Goose’s funeral a couple of days prior in the same exact position they are now. Like at Goose’s funeral, you couldn’t bring yourself to go over and talk to them, so you just watched them from afar, tears in your eyes as you did. Bradley lifted his gaze and made eye contact with you from across the graveyard and you couldn’t do any more than stare back at him. Talking to Bradley and Carole meant having to remember all the times you’d spend together with them, and your father and you weren’t ready for any of that. Eventually, you tore your gaze away from him when Viper approached you with his condolences and when you looked back, both Bradley and Carole were gone.

A couple of days before you were due to move to college, you had been working hard to ensure everything was ready for when you left. After getting confirmation that your dad had left the house in your name should anything happen to him, you worked closely with an estate agent to put the house up for rent, insisting it doesn’t get sold because once you finished college and got a job you wanted to move back to Miramar and the house. You’d sold some items of furniture and other things you didn’t need but kept most of your dad’s stuff. Anything that wasn’t going to college with you was put into storage until you moved back into the house. You only spoke to one person during this time, and it was to ask Iceman if he could keep an eye on your dad’s beloved motorbike while you were away for four years. You were taking your dad’s car with you, but you couldn’t bear to sell the bike.

As you were packing up some of the last stuff you were taking to college you heard a knock on your door. You didn’t answer it, knowing it was more than likely a member of your dad’s team wanting to wish you well or check in on you. In the days leading up to your departure, you were constantly getting knocks at the door and you didn’t want to see anyone. You just wanted to get out of Miramar and would only get in contact with people when you felt good and ready. You remained silent as there was another knock at the door, when you didn’t answer again, you heard a slight thud as if someone had put something down outside your front door followed by the sounds of footsteps getting further away and the sound of a car pulling away. Curiosity getting the better of you, you crossed to the front door, pulling it open and finding a box sat outside your door.

“What the…?” You muttered to yourself as you picked up the box. It wasn’t heavy, and it felt like there was just a lot of paper or something similar sliding around. You brought the box inside, set it down beside you as you sat on the living room floor and lifted the lid off. On top you found an envelope with your name on it. You recognised the writing instantly to be your dad’s. Only your dad had handwriting that scratchy yet legible. Lifting the envelope out, your eyes were drawn to the pictures below it and you placed the envelope alongside you so you could pick up the pictures. There were pictures of Maverick with Goose, Iceman, and Slider, as well as the rest of his team. Then there was pictures of your dad with you as a baby, as a kid, and as a teenager. Tears filled your eyes as you shuffled through the pictures as you began to realise that this box was filled with stuff your dad must’ve kept in his locker at work. You then noticed patches that must’ve been off his flight suit, and you held them, flipping them over in your hands and running your fingers over the embroidered lettering. After going through the whole box your eyes drifted back to the envelope that sat alongside you and you picked it up, sliding your finger under the sealed flap and easing it open before pulling out the letter inside, opening it carefully and beginning to read.

y/n,

If you’re reading this, then I can only assume the worst has happened and I have died and left you behind.

I’m not the best with words, you know this, but I’ll try here for you. I love you so much squirt. You’ve been the light of my life since I first held you in my arms. I know it’ll seem so hard, but you can get through this kid, I know you can. You’re so strong and I want you to go out there and make me proud like you already do every day. You’ll take this world by a storm I just know it.

I am so sorry for leaving you. Just know I’m with you every step of the way in spirit. I’ll make my presence known, promise.

Show the world what Mitchell’s are made of.

Love,

Dad

You were unaware of the tears that had fallen until you noticed the tear stains on the bottom of the letter, and you were immediately moving the paper away from the line of fire from your tears and wiping your cheeks harshly to get rid of the tears that fell. You then folded the letter up and put it back into the envelope for safe keeping before lying back on the carpet to regain control of your emotions.

When the time came for you to begin the drive to your college. You loaded the car up, sparing one last glance to your house as you closed the door.

“I’ll be back. Promise.” You whisper to the house. It felt weird, promising a house that you’d be back but you had grown up in this house. You wanted to come back to it when you could. It was a way to keep your dad with you a little more. After bidding the house goodbye, you climbed into the car, glancing over at the passenger seat where you’d laid your dad’s jacket proudly over the seat as your hand reached up to the dog tags that sat around your neck.

“I’m going to show them what Mitchell’s are made of, dad.” You whisper, a soft smile on your face as you turn the cars engine on, pulling out of your driveway and beginning the journey to your next step in life.

True to your whispered promise. You showed your college what a Mitchell can do. You aced all your classes, majored in psychology, and graduated with top grades. On graduation day, you looked into the audience of proud parents and wished above all else that your dad could’ve been there to see you graduate. You had no doubt he would’ve been the loudest parent there. You could picture him alongside Goose, Carole, Iceman, Slider, and maybe Bradley as they cheered you on, hugging you once you met with them after the ceremony. Instead you were alone, awkwardly dodging parents and graduates until you decided to just leave the ceremony.

After graduating, you moved back to Miramar, becoming a therapist within the Navy. You served as support for veterans, serving members, and family members of any Navy personnel, serving or retired, alive or dead, you’d provide help the best you could. You even reconnected with Iceman and Slider, apologising for the way you had treated them prior to you moving away but they dismissed your apologies, hugging you tight as they told you how good it was to see you again. You first moved into a small apartment to save up money before you got into a good enough financial place to be able to move back into your childhood home. You visited your dad’s grave at least once a week, filling him in on everything that had happened in that time. Despite everything you had achieved, you often wondered if you made your dad proud.

About twelve years after you graduated and moved back to Miramar, you were still happily working for the Navy. You had just finished a long day of seeing client after client, having particularly been affected by a girl that was brought in by her father after her mother died on a deployment. The girl was a similar age to you when Maverick died so after finishing up for the day you needed to go for a walk around the nearest park to clear your mind. As you stepped out of your office, you saw a person stood outside. The first thing that stood out to you was the man’s Hawaiian shirt, not many people wore shirts like that. When the man looked at you, you could’ve stumbled back in shock, he looked so much like Goose, sandy blond hair, moustache, everything. And when you squinted slightly, you realised who you were looking at.

“Bradley?” You questioned, stepping closer to the man, and stopping when he smiles softly.

“Hey y/n.” He replies, his voice quiet and soft as he watches you. He had grown up so much since you last saw him. He’d filled out with more muscles; he started sporting a moustache like his father’s, but he was still Bradley. You longed to hug him, but you felt you didn’t deserve such a greeting after going no contact with him for so long. Bradley could see the conflict within you and held his arms open, raising an eyebrow with a smile, giving you an invitation that you accept instantly, walking into his outstretched arms and hugging him tight as he winds his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry Bradley.” You whisper against his shoulder, tears stinging at the corner of your eyes as you cling to him.

“Don’t apologise.” He says, resting his chin gently on the top of your head.

“But I stopped talking to you. I never checked in.” You say, squeezing your eyes shut to fight off the tears.

“Hey, communication is a two way street. I could’ve reached out, but I didn’t. I think after what happened with dad there was just too many memories and I backed out any time the thought crossed my mind.” Bradley says, assuring you that there was no bad blood between the two of you. After hugging for what felt like forever, you finally pulled away, smiling up at your old friend.

“How did you find out I worked here? You haven’t been stalking me, have you?” You quip as Bradley lets out a breathy laugh.

“You wish. I’m stationed here now at Top Gun. I completed a mission a week or so ago and it really shook me up and one of my teammates recommended I see you. The second I heard your first name I knew it had to be you.” Bradley explained, his grin never fading.

“So you are a Navy man now. Making Goose proud I bet. Who recommended me? Just out of curiosity.” You ask, wondering which of your clients it could be.

“Hangman. He spoke highly of you.” Bradley said, making your eyes widen slightly.

“Jake’s here too and he hasn’t bothered to come and see me? I have some strong words for him when I next see him.” You had gotten along with Jake well; you were able to see past his strong bravado and help him navigate the loss of a wingman pretty early on in his career in the Navy. The two of you had formed a strong friendship and you tried to check in with him when you could.

“So, you joined the Navy after college. What’s your callsign?” You ask, looking up at Bradley as he takes a breath before speaking.

“Rooster.” He says, watching as you nod.

“It suits you, Rooster.” You say, testing the callsign out.

“Do you want to join me for a walk? If you have stuff to do it’s fine the offer is there though.” You then say, watching as Bradley debates the offer before nodding. You lead Bradley to the park, the two of you chatting the whole way before you settle down alongside each other on a park bench to continue talking.

“How’s Carole? I completely forgot to ask.” You say, the thought hitting you violently.

“Oh… she passed away a year after dad died.” Bradley says and you immediately feel like the worst person on the planet.

“Bradley, I’m so sorry I didn’t know.” You apologise quickly, without even thinking you reach out and give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay. She wasn’t doing great after dad died, I thought it was a temporary illness but one day I got a call saying her heart gave out. I think she died of a broken heart.” Bradley says, making tears fill your eyes.

“She’s with Goose now, and the two of them are watching over you and they’re so damn proud of you I just know it.” You say as Bradley smiles over at you.

“They’re with Mav I bet. And I bet he’s so proud of you as well.” Bradley says, his words bringing your smile back to your face.

“You know, the mission we flew the other week, our instructors kept talking about your dad.” Bradley says, making your eyes widen slightly as you watch him.

“Talking about my dad?” You prod gently, wanting answers.

“It was a rough mission. We thought someone wasn’t going to make it home. Our instructors kept talking about how your dad would’ve been a perfect person to teach or lead the mission. No one understood missions like that the way he did.” Bradley explains, making you nod lightly. Your dad had been reckless within the Navy, but he used his recklessness to do what others were afraid of doing, which put him above the others in the Navy.

You continued to talk in the park with Bradley, catching up with him on everything until the sun began its descent over the horizon, the golden glow dancing through the tree leaves.

“I’m glad I found you. It’s been great talking to you again.” Bradley says, his gaze fixed on the glow filtering through the trees.

“It’s been great talking to you again too Bradley.” You reply, smiling over at him and admiring the way the golden glow of the sun illuminated his face perfectly. Had he always been this attractive? Or were you just noticing it now? Before you could get lost in your thoughts, Bradley turned back to you.

“We should probably head home before it gets dark.” Bradley says, eyes drifting back to the sun before looking back at you.

“You’re right.” You mutter, upset that this moment has to end.

“So, where are you living now? I’ll walk you home.” You didn’t expect that response from Bradley, and it had your eyes wide in seconds.

“Bradley you really don’t have to worry about it. I’m not too far from here anyway.” You say but Bradley was on his feet, helping you up and looking down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I was brought up to be a gentleman so let me walk you home, okay?” Bradley says, his soft expression melting you down in seconds.

“I live exactly where I used to when I was younger.” You say and Bradley’s eyes light up, remembering the house all too well.

“Let’s go!” He says enthusiastically, practically bounding along like a golden retriever as he walks you home. The two of you continue to talk until you end up outside your front door.

“Well this is it. Hasn’t changed much.” You say sheepishly, thumb rubbing your wrist in nervousness as Bradley grins.

“Still a great house. I’d love to come by one day and see what you’ve done with the place if you’d let me.” Bradley says, making you smile softly before a sudden wave of confidence overcomes you, making you hold your hand out.

“Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in and then we can arrange a time for you to come round.” You say and Bradley instantly dug his phone out of his jean pocket and handed it you, waiting as you made yourself a contact and sent yourself a message so you could add Bradley’s number into your phone. When you handed the phone back to him, your fingertips brushed against his and you could’ve sworn you felt sparks travel up your arm.

“Goodnight, y/n.” Bradley says, bidding you goodbye with one last quick hug.

“Goodnight, Bradley.” You reply, releasing him from the hug and watching as he walks down the driveway before entering the house, sending him one final wave when he glanced over his shoulder. As you entered the house, you made yourself something for dinner before heading upstairs to get ready for bed, exhaustion quickly overtaking you as you clambered into bed, looking over at the picture of you and your dad that sat proudly on your bedside table.

“Goodnight dad. I’ve got a hell of a story to tell you when I next visit. I hope I’m making you proud.” You whispered to the photo, your eyes slipping shut as you allowed sleep to take over.

Little did you know, Maverick had been watching over you ever since his death and as you whispered your little mantra of hoping you made him proud every night, he’d always respond with the same thing.

“You make me proud every damn day.”

[dokifluffs]

How They Would Take Care of Their Sick Kids | Sakusa, Osamu

Pairings: Sakusa X Reader (female), Osamu X Reader (female)

Genre: good ol' domestic dad fluff heheheeh

tutuwusworld asked: Hi!! Glad you’re back here💗So I was thinking about is how (mainly Osamu), and Sakusa would take care of their sick child and the different ways of them comforting their kids💗

Author's Note: hehehe hi and thanks! I like being back heheh it forces me to write, which also helps me improve and get back to things hehe!

as much as he hated germs, he hated seeing his baby/ babies being sick and suffering

which ig would make him despise germs even more tbh

since they made his bb/ bbs (baby/ babies) sick

he would be gentle with them, and take care of them even if it meant getting his hands and himself dirty

but anything for his bb/ bbs

when it first happened where his bb/ bbs got sick, he rushed them to the hospital, insisting that they stayed there until his bb/bbs were better

he had the doctors and nurses on speed dial

but now this second time around, he was more ready having learned from the first time

he would be on a tight routine to change them out of any sweaty clothes, tucking them in, changing their cooling forehead patches

making fresh food with scrubbed clean ingredients

everything

if his bb or bbs couldn't sleep, you bet he would hold them close

he would make sure is body warmth was also keeping them warm too

cradling them, rocking them, rubbing their little backs until they were sound asleep

he didn't mind doing the extra laundry if it meant that they actually got rest and they slept

even just a short nap

as soon as they were sound asleep, this mans would be whipping out his steamer, steaming all high-touch surfaces like their toys, door handles, and tables, cleaning and disinfecting everything

but at night, he was also on high alert

even when you were home to take care of them and when you took his turn to watch over them, he insisted on staying with you

The two of you sat at the ends of their low cribs in your guys' bedroom and just watched the two of them sleep side by side in their own crib in the low light of the bedroom, the sound machine playing the soft sound of waves washing against a shore

tucked in, wearing their matching little pjs

"they seem to be doing better," you spoke in a soft voice to your husband as he sat beside you, his hand resting on your lower back, fingers drawing random small shapes against your soft skin, his chin resting on your shoulder

"mmhm," he agreed with you, nodding gently into your shoulder

his eyes glanced back and forth watching them slightly move every now and then

he never thought that one day, such small human beings would mean the world and everything beyond to him

he would some nights, depending on how his bbs were throughout the day, would stay up later or sleep less so he could watch over them, sitting right beside them at their cribs

he would be right beside them, helping their little immune systems fight off these bad germs

Warning! Spoilers to what osamu does post-time skip!

You know this mans was feeding his family good stuff

like when you were pregnant with your little buns (what samu thought they looked like when they were born)

you ate the best foods

you were surprised how you were able to push such plump little buns out of you, 2 of them as a matter of fact

but they were very healthy

over the years, their plumpness became proportionate to their bodies as they grew

now they were able to balance and walk, they started running, playing outside, building their immunes

that was until something apparently had been going around while they were at daycare

and some parent still brought their child in, even though they were very sick and it spread to your guys' little buns

the two of you were mostly calm

took them to the doctors the first thing a fever was detected

making sure they were drinking plenty of fluids and samu was their personal chef

he knew what each of his bbs liked and made sure they both got their nutrients and all the other good stuff

he seemed calm on the outside but he did have a subtle, consistent wave of worry

he would think about the worst-case scenarios and work harder to make sure the foods and soups they were going to eat would be the best

but over time as you saw progress in their recovery, you were able to wipe away his worries without even knowing they were there

"Look who woke up a bit early and wanted to see you," he turned at the stove, hearing the sound of your voice approaching as you walked into the kitchen

you held the younger twin in your arms, the twin that did seem clingier with him but he didn't mind at all

he loved his bbs equally

the little one turned their body and reached toward him upon seeing him

Osamu was used to this

before they were sick, he would hold one while cooking - mainly something simple like stirring a pot

nothing dangerous

he would give them little samples of what he was making, always blowing the spoon or spatula like crazy before feeding them

he wasn't gonna burn his bbs

during baths and put-downs for naps and sleep at night, he always made sure to cuddle his bbs

he knew they were just gonna get bigger from here

after baths were his favorite time

they smelled so clean and fresh in their little pjs

he lay right in between their two little bodies as they hugged his head, cuddling with him

he laid with them until they were fast asleep, listening to the soft chimes of the lullaby gifted from osamu's grandmother

"stay small," he whispered to them, pressing kisses to their heads before slowly rising, and tucking them into their cribs

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

[formulaforza]

miss americana & the heartbreak prince

—01. all american girl —word count: 6.4k —warnings: none :) —a/n: this is queued so I'm sound asleep right now but trust when I wake... I will be throwing up about having posted this

It’s nine in the morning on Friday, and the kindergarteners at Robinson Elementary are getting picked up from the gymnasium and taken to their classroom to start their day. It’s nine in the morning on Friday, and their teacher, Chris Elliott, is running four minutes late to the first day of the U.S Grand Prix. Her fingers flatten down stray flyaways, working in tandem with the extra strength hairspray she found in the back of the Walgreens beauty aisle last night. Her makeup is strewn about in chaos atop the stark white marble countertops, a single folded piece of toilet paper in the trash can, remnants of her lipstick kissed onto the fibers. 

She played it safe on the outfit today, still hasn’t been able to pinpoint exactly what the dress code for this race is supposed to be. Her Dad has been no help–he can get away with wearing jeans and a short-sleeve button-up just about anywhere he goes. More is expected from her, though. Three days, three outfits, always walking the line between casual streetwear and Kentucky Derby without a fascinator. She settled for something painfully classic and American, figured a European sport would be eating up the concept of everything being bigger in Texas. Levi’s, a white tank top, and a beat up pair of cowboy boots should do a good enough job at letting anyone curious know she’s authentically American, without screaming out for attention. That’s the goal for the weekend; blend in and keep Dad company. 

Dad, who is not-so patiently tapping his foot against the floor, watching pre-race coverage of the Dixie Vodka 400 on his iPhone 7,  is a guest of honor for Ferrari this weekend. It was a classic Bill Elliott commitment, one he makes and then forgets about until he’s getting sent an email a month ago to remind him. One he makes when he forgets his son is racing the same weekend. That’s how Chris ended up here with him, instead of her Mom or instead of Chase or Chandler. They’re all in Florida for the Cup Series. Well–Chandler isn’t. Chandler’s at her hot-shot job in the big city living her life blissfully away from racing. 

She can count on a single hand the amount of times her dad has missed a Cup Series race in the years since his retirement. Even if he’s moved on from driving the track, racing is in Elliott blood. It comes easier to them than breathing does. Chris won’t be the first to admit it, but she's the NASCAR nepotism equivalent of a Baldwin baby. She’s no Kennedy, the first-families of NASCAR are closer to the Petty’s and the Earnhardt’s, but, you ask a NASCAR fan about the Elliott Clan and you’re sure to get an earful. Champion, Hall-of-Fame inductee father, supergenius transmission and engine mechanic uncles, and a superstar fan-favorite older brother, the Elliott family racing history spans generations of fans.

Never the Danica Patrick-type, Chris has always preferred to watch the races rather than compete in them, but she still grew up at the track and was always up for a trip to visit her dad at the auto-shop. 

“Mums,” her dad says, peeking his head around the corner into the hotel bathroom. It’s a stupid nickname, Mums, Chrysanthemum. She’d roll her eyes if it was anyone but Bill still calling her by it. “We gotta go, darlin’.” Chris nods at him in the mirror, flattens her hands along her thigh and tucks one final strand of her bang behind her ear, and then they’re finally leaving the hotel for the track. 

It’s a strange kind of first for Chris, in that it’s not really a first at all. She’s been to COTA before, multiple times. Hell, she watched in the garage when Chase won the inaugural Cup Series race here in May last season. She’s even been to the U.S Grand Prix before, back when it was still in Indianapolis, when Chris was too young to remember if it was big or if she was just little. She’s used to the crowds, spends almost every weekend with upwards of fifty-thousand people, but this? This is the kind of crowd she can’t fathom being among, and it’s only Friday. If it takes them an hour and a half to get through traffic on a practice day, she can only imagine what the next two mornings have in store for her. 

“No antics today,” Bill tells her in the car. “They’re not like us. Trust me, I know.”

Last time you went to one of these races, you were still a driver, she wants to tell him, but doesn’t. He doesn’t take well to the implication he’s an old man. Walking into the paddock with a yellow pass hung around her neck, FERRARI-GUEST-17 and a picture of the team logo popping up on the screens at the turnstiles, she’s beyond taken back by the pomp and circumstance of it all. She’s barely through the entrance and she’s already spotted half a dozen people who could buy her without it making a dent in their pockets. It’s nothing like walking around a NASCAR track. There isn’t a single Bud Light knight or backs sunburnt into American flags or t-shirts turned muscle tanks. It’s just… rich people. Lots and lots of rich people. 

In the Paddock Club tent, Bill manages to find a couple of his old buddies. Guys he raced with back in the day who’ve turned up for whatever with whoever this weekend. It’s unsurprising, stock car racing is nowhere near as exclusive a club as Formula One. They aren’t any of the guys Chris remembers being a part of her childhood, none of them pseudo-uncles in the way some other drivers were. You’re all grown up, they tell her, note her height and her features and one of them even asks if she’s in college yet. She plays along, pretends she remembers them fondly and that they haven’t been on the recipient list for the annual Elliott family Christmas newsletter for the past thirty or so years. His buddies are much more comfortable talking about Chase, anyways, about his racing and his fiancee and his little boy than they’ve ever been talking about Chris or Chandler. The concept of a quote-en-quote girl dad wasn’t such a thing in the nineties.

Chris makes small talk with one of the wives. They can’t be that far apart in age, she’s definitely of a different generation than her husband. Gross. Chris lets the woman lead the conversation; she talks about the polka dots on her skirt and Chris’ cowboy boots that are, apparently, perfectly authentic. 

They separate from the group of former NASCAR drivers and their child brides within the hour. Bill has to be in Ferrari hospitality by one o’clock for a special meeting. He’s still not sure what he did to get selected for this specific group of people who get to do a hot lap with one of the Ferrari drivers, but he isn’t about to ask any questions that might get him out of it. He sets off to hospitality and Chris sneaks out of the paddock and into the rest of the track. 

There’s only so much to see inside the paddock. Hospitality after hospitality after hospitality, just in different colors with different modern structures with pictures of different cars. She wants to experience the event, not just the rich people who can pay their way into the upper echelon of the pinnacle of motorsport. If she’s going to be on her own for an hour and a half, she might as well be fully and truly on her own. 

She ends up in the beer garden. More specifically, the bar tent. You can’t separate a NASCAR fan from the Natty Light. The pass around her neck gets her into the VIP area of the tent, which… feels like an antithesis of itself.  Her phone buzzes in her back pocket when she’s waiting on her bottle from the bartender. It’s her dad. 

Brad Pitt is here. Crazy. 

She makes quick acquaintances with a couple who looks about her age. She compliments the girl’s denim jacket and then she’s in. The DJ is playing country music with a techno backtrack at the other side of the tent and they all three spend a good fifteen minutes trying to decide if they love or hate the set. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever heard,” the guy says. 

“It’s definitely not the best, though,” Chris winces, spots a Ferrari pass hanging with the VIP one around the girlfriend’s neck. “Are you guys here with Ferrari?” She asks. 

“Oh, “ she says, looks down at the pass and fiddles with it for a moment. “Yeah, Will’s a golfer and they invited him for a tour and to do this golf event with ESPN.”

“Oh, that’s sick!” Chris nods. “Have you guys ever been here, or is this your first time?”

“We’ve come every year for…” Will starts, looks to his girlfriend for the rest of his sentence. 

“Four years,” she nods. “What about you?”

“This is my first time,” Chris explains, leaves out the technicalities because she barely cares about them, doesn’t expect a stranger to even half-care. “My dad’s here with Ferrari, and I’m here to babysit my dad.” She laughs. 

The woman nods, makes a quiet ah sound. Will asks for clarification. “You guys lose each other, or something?”

Chris nods. “Or something.”

Charles sees her before he hears her. She appears in his peripheral on the top floor of Ferrari Hospitality, moving swiftly through the groups of strangers with a confidence that makes you think she owns the place. He half-prepares to excuse himself from his current conversation–not that he’s understanding more than forty-percent of the words coming out of this guy’s mouth–to take a photo with the short brunette bee-lining it over to him. 

“Excu–”

“I think I saw Brad Pitt on my way here,” she says, and the man he’s been talking to for fifteen minutes laughs. Oh, he thinks, that’s mortifying. She’s not here to intrude on his conversation and ask for a picture. She’s here with this guy. 

“This is my Chris,” Bill says. 

“Hi,” Chris says. Chris. Chris. Chris is a woman. A woman extending her hand, thin and well manicured with a single ruby ring, for him to shake. “Chris.”

“Charles,” he says, hesitates. “You are not what I was expecting.” 

There wasn’t much he understood from Bill Elliott during their hot lap, not that Bill didn’t talk. Charles just didn’t have the focusing capabilities to drive the car in an entertaining way while also deciphering the thick southern drawl of the man sat in the passenger seat. It was thick, heavy, and sounded like maybe he’d smoked a pack a day for a few years. That, or he was straight-up making up words in a bit that only he was in on. One thing he did understand, though, was the kids’ names. I have three, he’d said, Chandler, Chase, and Chris. He’d assumed all boys. Chandler, Chase, and Christopher. Christian. Cristiano. The last thing he was expecting was a beautiful girl with a firm handshake. 

“You were expecting me?” She asks, and her voice is a million times easier to understand than her father’s. 

“No, no. He just,” He gestures absently to Bill. Chris doesn’t break eye contact. She has wonderful eyes. “I thought Chandler, Chase, and Chris are three brothers.”

“Oh,” She laughs like it’s not even close to the first time she’s had to follow behind her dad and correct the miscommunication, and a piece of her bangs falls loose from its tucked position behind her ear. She fixes it without thought. “Well, you’re one for three.” 

She asks Bill about the hot lap, asks if he had fun and he laughs. They’re very laugh-oriented people, he’s noticed. Laughy and almost intimidatingly good at holding eye contact. He’d always heard Americans had an issue with eye contact, and if that really is the case, these two practice their active-listening skills enough for the rest of the country. Their kindness is in their expressions, soft eyes and small smiles that keep you from feeling like an intrusion on the conversation. He notes all of his findings internally, categorizes them together as if he’s spent the last ten minutes looking at anyone but her. 

She’s horrendously his type. It’s painfully apparent with every passing moment. The hair and the face and the build and the smile. Just, God.

“Why didn’t you do one?” He asks, “A lap?”

“The need-for-speed bug skipped the women in my family, unfortunately.” She tucks her hair again. He wonders if she’s growing it out or if she always keeps it at such a length that it’s just too short to stay where she wants it to. 

“We could go slow,” he offers and she chuckles, closing her eyes long enough to roll them without him actually seeing them roll. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’ll be fun, I promise.” He’s never been good at flirting, always found it off-putting in the beginning, trying to walk the line between what one person finds fun and another person finds horribly uncomfortable. Once the dust settles, he can manage, but making those first few moves? He might as well be a deer in headlights. Semi-truck headlights. 

“I don’t know,” she says, drags out the vowel sounds and he’s oblivious to whether or not she can tell he’s only making this offer as a chance to spend more time with her. He’ll get an earful for it, no doubt, but if she agrees it’ll be worth it. Bill chimes in, eggs her on with a guilt trip. You should do it, don’t be a party-pooper. Charles wonders if Bill can tell he’s flirting with his daughter. Probably not, he’d bet. “Okay,” she says, and his stomach does a celebratory flip. Before he can say anything more, Mia is pulling him off somewhere. He hadn’t even seen her coming, but he fills her in on the walk.

“Domani c'è un'aggiunta al programma dei giri veloci.” There’s an addition to the hot laps schedule tomorrow, he says. Mia glares at him and he pretends not to notice, flashes her a toothy-grin as an unapologetic apology. 

When she’d agreed to do a hot lap with the gorgeous racing driver standing a foot away from her, she assumed it would be forgotten the moment he stepped away from the conversation. She never would have agreed to it if she actually thought it was going to happen. Chris was sorely mistaken though, when later that afternoon, a man dressed head-to-toe in Ferrari red finds her to gather her information. 1:10, he tells her through a thick Italian accent, be in hospitality at 1:10. 

It was wonderful, really. Perfect, fantastic, great, legendary. This is an amazing opportunity. She isn’t going to regret agreeing to this, no chance. Even for the queen of optimism, this one is hard to put a positive spin on. 

There is no underestimating just how much Chris hates going fast. She’s never liked it, spent the majority of her childhood getting carsick in a vehicle maxing out at forty miles an hour. Her sister and brother used to think she was faking it just so she could always ride shotgun. She’s not even allowed to drive the car if she’s with her dad or her brother because they can’t bear it. To her, a speed limit is just that, a limit. To everyone else, it’s a minimum. 

Her only hope is that she doesn’t vomit all over an expensive supercar at 1:10 tomorrow afternoon, or worse–the cute guy driving the car. 

In the meantime, she can distract herself with the Green Day performance and remind herself that only so much can happen in five minutes. Anyone can survive five minutes. 

– – –

They eat the continental breakfast at the hotel the next morning. Bill has pancakes and Chris has cereal because, as she’ll tell anyone, there’s just something about cereal from a plastic container. She’s also three coffees ahead of where she was this time the day before, all of her nerves personifying themselves as desperation for caffeine. She’s responding to a work email on her phone while Bill has a call with Chase. 

Somewhere on a race track in Florida, Chase is calling between practice and qualifying sessions. They talk every day during a race weekend–Bill and Chase–and it’s almost never about racing. Her dad might drop an occasional that’s not what I would’ve done or a well, that looked like fun, but that’s usually the end of race-talk. They used to fight like cats and dogs about driving when Chase was younger, so much so that Chris’ mom banned them from talking about racing inside the house for three straight years. The who of them are better now, now that Bill’s been able to let Chase find his own way and go through his own racing journey. 

“Your sister is doing a Hot Lap today,” Bill says, and Chris can hear Chase’s laughter from the muffled speaker. 

Bill and Chris are driven to the track on Saturday because traffic is so bad. It’s hot and windy and Chris has her window rolled down the entire drive, her fingers dancing through the dry air. She’s always loved the heat, the sun shining down on her skin, kissing her in a million different places all at the same time. She loves the heat, and the heat loves her. 

The morning flies by. They start the day with a tour of the Ferrari garage, where they’re introduced, or re-introduced, to their drivers. They end up with a couple other very important people hunched over Charles’ car while he explains how much pressure needs to be applied to the brake pedal for the car to actually brake. Bill eats the semantics up, cars and their mechanics run thick in his blood, braided deeply into his DNA. Chris, however, has always enjoyed the more delicate things in life; the pink hair bows and the dollar store makeup kits and spinning herself dizzy in a flowy summer dress. She never spent exorbitant amounts of time at Dad’s engine shop or Grandpa’s Ford Dealership, it just wasn’t in her lane of interests. She sips another coffee–her fifth of the day–and listens attentively to Charles talk, bites her smile at his wild gesticulations. He’d make a good kindergarten teacher, she thinks, with his huge personality. 

When the whole tour group is being shuffled out of the garage to be replaced by a new set of prying eyes, Charles makes a passing comment. See you later for the world’s slowest hot lap, he remarked, put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze as he moved past her. 

She doesn’t know why, but she’d convinced herself that it wouldn’t actually be him she would be doing the lap with. It was qualifying day, after all. Surely, he had about a million and one better things to be doing than driving a random girl around a track a few times. She figured it would be a driver, but not one of the drivers. 

After lunch, she makes her way back to Ferrari hospitality, to where she was told to be waiting at 1:10. She’s the only person who looks like they’re here on instruction. Nobody else is nervously picking at their cuticles or vibrating in place as a reaction to their seven coffees that morning.

She spent the night before grilling her dad about his experience, forcing him to give her a moment-by-moment breakdown of everything he remembered happening, from the safety briefing to the conversation afterwards. But, when it came time for Chris to actually do hers, there was no safety briefing warning her about the million different ways she could die. Instead, the same man who’d tracked her down the day before escorted her from the top floor of hospitality to the bottom, out the back into what she can best compare to an alleyway, and then to a red supercharged Ferrari. 

Charles is there, talking to what appears to be a personal photographer and another man dressed in Ferrari garb. She re-introduces herself for a third time in twenty four hours. “I know your name, Chris,” Charles says, smiles and shakes her hand anyway. She doesn’t like the way her brain reacts to him saying her name like it belongs on his lips. 

“Duh,” she laughs, “sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Right,” she nods. “Yeah, sorry.” Charles laughs out a sigh, cocks his head and smiles. Chris bites her tongue not to apologize again. It’s a reflex. She puffs out her laugh and shrugs. 

If she manages to make it out of these couple laps with her life and the contents of her stomach still intact, she’s sure to still look like a clown–a fact she realizes as she pulls the tight helmet over her head. She’s worn racing helmets a handful of times, but it’s not muscle memory to her in the way it is to him. It takes her a minute to tighten the chin strap just right and despite his genuine offer to help her, Chris turns him down and blindly works her fingers under her neck until it’s just right. 

“Why don’t you get a fun Hot Laps helmet?” She asks while she fights with the strap. 

Charles knocks on the side of his helmet with his knuckle. “Custom fit. Safety reasons.”

Chris knows, she was just messing with him. She nods like she never could’ve guessed that was the reason. “My safety doesn’t matter?” She comments, pulls the strap tight for the final time. 

“You think I’m going to crash?”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

“I would never crash with Chris Elliott in the car.” There he goes again, saying her name all annoyingly French and nice and easy. 

“Whatever,” she says, turns away so he can’t see her squished cheeks flush pink against the polyester. He opens the passenger side door for her, knocks his knuckle on her helmet this time, and horribly mocks both her words and accent before shutting the door behind her. 

Chris has her seatbelt buckled before he can get around the front of the car and into his seat. Her leg bounces anxiously against the floor mat. Charles starts the car and moves to shift into drive, but stops short. “Are you scared?” he asks, and in a moment of vulnerable honesty, she nods. She’s more than scared. She’s terrified, and despite his brief attempt to reassure her that it’s going to be fun, her leg is still bouncing when they peel off from the group already awaiting his return. 

A hot lap, she’d come to learn in the last day or so, would be more accurately referred to as hot laps–plural, multiple, several. Three, to be exact. One out lap, one push lap, and one cool down lap. Three laps. Hot laps. They should really start referring to it as a plural. 

The best thing she can compare it to is a roller coaster. The turns share the feeling you get at the tipping point, right before your body thinks you’re free falling. Her stomach is left behind three turns back and it never really catches up to the car once they start. The straights are like that first hill, fast and crazy in a way that pulls from her lips screams she hears before she consciously chooses to release. It’s like a roller coaster, if the person sitting next to you is completely unaffected by the ride and spends the entire time trying to carry out a conversation with you between your screams and their giggles. It’s like a roller coaster, if the cart never leaves the ground. 

On the cool down lap, when they’re going at a speed that allows Chris to pick up her soul when they drive through turn four, he asks her if she’s single. It comes at her from left field. 

“Are you flirting with me?”

He laughs, takes a hand off the wheel and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes!”

“Oh,” she says softly. If he notices the surprise in her tone, he doesn’t mention it. “I am.” 

“Can I get your number?” She swears that his fingers are shakier than before as they hover over the paddle shift. They were sure-footed just minutes earlier, she’s sure of it. She’s sure of it, but there’s no way it’s a genuine observation. There’s no way she’s making him nervous. 

She laughs, because what on God’s green Earth is a European Formula One driver going to do with a small town American girl’s phone number? 

“I’m not abandoning my dad for a hookup,” she says, and he rolls his eyes, repeats the question. “Why do you want it?”

“Because, Chris Elliott,” she wants to scrape the way he says her name out of his voice box and pin it in a scrapbook. It’s like a tick, the way it burrows into her skin. Nobody should be allowed to make her name sound like that. “You are a very beautiful girl, and when a guy sees a beautiful girl, they act like an idiot and ask for her number.” 

“Oh, my God,” she giggles, shakes her head and looks out the window like it might ground her, or like it might reveal that she really is in some fever dream state and none of this is real. She’s not even in Texas, maybe. That’s how insane this whole conversation is to her. 

“Too cheesy?” He asks, grimaces. She shakes her head, holds her hand out for his phone. 

“Just cheesy enough.”

When they get back to where they started, someone asks Chris if she’d had a good time. She nods, flattens down the static-electricity charged flyaways on her head and tells them yes, even if she’ll be just a little bit nauseous for the rest of the day. It’s not a lie, either, she did have fun. She was scared out of her mind, but in a way that makes her happy she did it. 

They pose for a photo together in front of the car, the picture snapped by the only guy with a camera around his neck, the only one besides Chris not covered head to toe in Ferrari branding. When they pose, Charles’ arm wraps around her lower back and, almost like he remembers himself in the middle of the action, his hand doesn’t close around her side. Instead, it hovers just beyond her body, open and stiff and flat. How gentlemanly. “Good luck tomorrow,” she says.

He nods his thanks, “I hope I see you around this weekend,” he adds, and then they go their separate ways. Good thing, too, because she’s still blushing over it when she gets back to her dad in the Champion’s club. Bill is too distracted by the live feed on Chase’s qualifying laps on his tiny phone screen to notice Chris’ presence, much less the coloring of her cheeks. He qualifies third and they celebrate quietly with drinks from the bar and FP3 on the big screens. 

They stumble into more NASCAR old-timers while in the Champion’s Club and Chris spends the time fifth-wheeling their conversations about Chase and watching the second half of qualifying on one of the TVs. 

She doesn’t really understand the format of the weekend. In theory, she understands the basics, didn’t have to read Formula One for Dummies on the plane ride over, but the intricacies of it are beyond her. In NASCAR, drivers are split into two groups and then are only given, at max, two laps to set their qualifying times. It varies depending on the track that weekend, but it always hits some of the same points. From what she can gather from the low-volume televisions mounted on every surface around her, F1 is definitely different. 

They head back to the hotel directly after qualifying to ‘beat the traffic’ which is code for Chris is still nauseous and they’re both feeling a little too heat exhausted. They stop for dinner on the way back, at a barbeque place right by their hotel. Bill orders the chopped brisket with potato salad and Chris gets the pulled pork sandwich with a tomato zucchini salad. 

Chris has been really busy with work, with settling into the new routine with her new group of students, and Bill wants to hear all about it. She always struggles in September and October, feels inadequate every time the other teachers find their footing with their new class weeks before she does. It’s the first time alotta ‘em have been in a school, Bill reminds her and she shrugs it off, tries to find something more upbeat to talk about. 

Chris and Bill have really gotten close over the past couple years. Growing up, she and her sister Chandler were massive daddy’s girls, had him wrapped around their little fingers from the moment they came into the world. But, when Chase started to really take racing seriously, the girls lost a lot of their dad to their brother and spent the majority, if not all, of their time with their Mom. As a teenager, Chris did what all sixteen year old girls do and rebelled against any and every rule in the book. While Chandler was touring colleges and getting 1550s on her SAT and singing in the church choir, Chris had other plans. Whether it was stubbornly refusing to clean her half of the shared room with her big sister, ratting Chase out for coming home at 2am drunk, or sneaking out of the second-story window to go out with her all-too-old boyfriend, she tested all of the waters. It wasn’t until college, until she moved away to Athens and was out of the house for the first time in her life that she realized just how important family was to her. She’s been attempting to make up for lost time since. 

That night when she plugs her phone into the charger and shuts it off for the night, she realizes she’d been half expecting a late night text from Charles. It didn’t come, and disappointed isn’t the right word for the tiny little pit in her stomach because she wasn’t really expecting anything to come from typing her number into his contacts.  It’s not disappointment, it’s something closer to acceptance or rejection, maybe. It’s not like he would’ve been searching out anything but a hookup, anyways, and Chris made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t into that idea. 

She would never hear from him again, and that’s how it should be. The whole interaction turning into anything but a story she can tell in a couple months when she’s drunk would be entirely too complicated of an outcome. 

She doesn’t let herself think about it any longer, leaves her phone face down on the side table and tucks herself into bed. 

– – –

Traffic on race day is true-crime inducing. They’re driven, again, escorted and still spend an hour and a half in the backseat of an SUV. Bill and Chris watch from the VIP stands and Chris has never seen anything like this, especially not at COTA. Even Talladega and Daytona barely hold a candle to this spectacle. 

If she has one critique, it’s that F1 should really hire some B-List at best celebrity to scream drivers, start your engines! At the start of the race like they do in NASCAR. It would really add some flare, she thinks. 

She and Bill share Chris’ airpods, one in each of their ears listening to the NASCAR broadcast. Charles starts twelfth, for whatever reason. She can’t be bothered to look into it, knows it’ll probably be a penalty she doesn’t understand and she’ll be tumbling down a rabbit hole before she knows what’s happened to her. 

While it’s not Chase’s best race–he finishes fourteenth with a single sigh from Bill–Charles puts on a show, fights his tires all the way up into third. 

They watch the podium celebrations on the TV screens and nobody looks happy to be up there. They look miserable, almost, and she understands it to an extent. It’s hard to have energy after a race, she’s witnessed it first hand more times than she can count. It’s hard, especially at the end of the season. Burn-out is real, but still. They look bored. She didn’t know spraying champagne could look so tired. 

Bill grumpily flies them home to Georgia late Sunday night. He’d wanted to wait until Monday morning, after all the billionaires and their super-jets take off right after the race, but Chris refused to miss another day of work this early in the school year, not when she was already going to be missing time in December for her brother’s wedding. 

Bill’s been flying planes since before any of his kids were born. His most recent purchase is a Cessna Conquest II that he uses to fly the family around for short distances. In another gene that skipped the females in the family, Chandler, Chris, and their mom all prefer to be passengers. Chase, however, followed in Dad’s footsteps once more in becoming an avid aviation fan. 

By the time they take off, any thought Chris had of getting a text from Charles has faded far into obscurity. He’d probably gotten dozens of numbers from girls this weekend. He was probably at a club somewhere right now still pulling women. Women more his type, probably. He seems like he’d be more into the refined type, the girls without the ‘cheap’ accents who were all worldly and spoke seventeen languages fluently and had long legs that carried them down runways across Europe every other weekend. 

Little southern girls get texts from little southern boys, that’s how it goes. That's how it’s always gone, and Chris is beyond naive to think anything different for even a moment. 

She grades papers on the flight home. Purple pen, because she thinks that color is fun and red is too cruel to grade with. Puffy stickers for everyone, even the kids who aren’t anywhere near the right track because she doesn’t want anyone to feel less than just because they struggle a bit more. Chris has always been a firm believer that the student is never the problem. If someone isn’t learning what she’s teaching, she needs to adjust the way she teaches it to cater to their learning style. 

It’s her job to teach them, not their job to learn. 

Joris has been laughing at Charles from the hotel room armchair for fifteen minutes now, beyond entertained by his best friend’s restless pacing, providing absolutely zero aid to his current predicament. This act has been going on for some time now. Charles, pacing for five minutes before pulling out his phone and typing up an opening message to Chris. Each time, he starts to read it out to Joris and then stops himself short, deletes it, and paces for five more minutes. 

Hey, Chris. This is Ch–no, that’s stupid. 

Sorry it took me a minute to text–absolutely not. 

What’s up? It’s Charles, how–someone should just stop him from speaking to women all together. 

There’s half a dozen renditions before Joris breaks. “Mate? What is your problem?” He finally asks. “It’s just a girl.”

“I know,” Charles sighs, “I know.”

“Then why can’t you send her a text?”

“Because.” He doesn’t really know why he can’t land on a message, why everything he types sounds entirely too casual or formal or nothing at all like what he would say to another human being. This isn’t a problem that he’s used to having. It’s the in-person flirting that fucks him up, not the texts and DMs and comments. She was just… he doesn’t know what she was. She was just. End of sentence. 

It’s no help that he doesn’t know American texting culture, unfamiliar with how long he’s supposed to wait to send a message or what he’s supposed to say in the opening text. 

“Here,” Joris says, holds his hand out for the phone. “I’ve got the perfect text.”

“Don’t send it,” Charles warns, but passes the phone to his friend. 

“I… won’t,” Joris says slowly, struggling to multi-task. He doesn’t type for more than a few seconds and then hands the phone back to Charles, with the message already sent. Charles’ look of sheer panic is met with a smile and a chef’s kiss from Joris. 

She turns her phone off while Bill is shutting the plane engine down in the hangar. Because of his love of aviation, Bill had bought some land out in the woods a couple decades ago and turned it into the family’s private airstrip for their planes.  Elliott Field, they coined it, stored all their extra vehicles out on the property. She slips it into her back pocket as her and Bill disembark and lock up the place, and the entire time she can feel it vibrating, the notifications from the hour and a half flight catching up now that she’s on the ground again. 

It’s not until she’s in her car that she checks them, pulls her phone out to plug it into the aux and play some music for the drive back to her house. Right at the top of the dozens of notifications is a message from an unknown number with an unfamiliar area code. 

[one unread message] the notification reads. She unlocks her phone to check the message. 

She closes the messages app on her phone and opens up Spotify, shuffles her favorite playlist. She doesn’t reply to his text, doesn’t know if she wants to or even what she might say back. She’s sleepy, more than ready for bed after a long weekend in the sun, excited to be back with her students bright and early tomorrow morning. 

The text from the cute race car driver can wait for another day. An issue for tomorrow, maybe. 

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